


Silicone Hearts

by pmonkey816



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pmonkey816/pseuds/pmonkey816
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima had enough on her plate already, she didn't need her sister-a famous studio executive-to drag her to Los Angeles as a science consultant for the show she was producing. But as she gets to know the people around her, she has to admit that maybe, just maybe, a trip to the Golden state could offer her something she'd denied herself for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends! I've been super stressed and busy lately, so what do I do? Start a new writing project, of course! This one will be mostly fun with minimal angst, and I'm projecting it'll be in about four parts. I've got the plot planned out, I just need to put it all on paper. Let me know what you think, I hope you like it! Enjoy!

When her phone started ringing and she saw the name that was flashing on the screen, Cosima almost didn't answer it. She was sort of in a groove, you see, with this whole thesis-writing business, and she was almost positive this conversation would interrupt any sense of flow she'd achieved. Which was hard won because Cosima was a damn great procrastinator. A heavyweight champ of doing anything but what she was supposed to be at that exact second. But, on the other hand, Rachel was notoriously irritable and wholly in need of human interaction outside of her job (in Cosima's opinion, at least), so she clicked the floppy disk icon on the top left of her screen and traded her cursor for her phone.

"Hello?"

"Cosima Niehuas?" The familiar voice of Rachel's almost irritatingly handsome and depressingly beleaguered assistant, Martin, answered.

"Yep. This is my cell phone, so I'm not sure who else I would be." She responded, laugh stifling in her chest. She didn't need to make fun of the poor man, she knew it was his job to say that.

"Of course. Hold for Rachel Duncan."

The familiar easy listening music took the place of his voice and she rolled her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time Rachel had called her without at least a minute of wait time. The last time _Rachel_ had called _her._ The power of practically running a major Hollywood studio was really going to her head. She settled back in her chair and swiped at some dust that had settled on the arm with the back of her hand. She really should clean beyond a simply tidying, she thought, despite the fact that no one who wasn't intimately familiar with the mess that was her apartment was likely to come over anytime soon.

"Rachel Duncan." Her foster sister's icy tone seemed to click her back to her surroundings. That music did a great job of lulling people into apathy, apparently.

"Hey, sis. How's it going?"

"Fine. How are you feeling?"

Cosima brought her free hand up to rub at her forehead. "Good, good."

"I'm glad to hear that. I've called because I need your assistance in a business matter." Rachel never wasted time by lingering on pleasantries.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" She knew drawing this conversation out was simply frustrating Rachel, who was always on her way to a meeting or to take the next phone call—but really, where was the fun in not poking the bear every once in a while?

There was a brief pause before she answered. "Did you really not hear me, or are you being impetuous?"

"I heard you, but it sounded like you were asking for my help so I knew I had to be mistaken." Something about Rachel also seemed to instantly improve Cosima's vocabulary, which irritated her to no end. Her vocabulary was perfectly fine without the spin of pretentious refinement Rachel was so perfect at.

"Very funny." Rachel deadpanned. "I need you to fly out to Los Angeles immediately."

Cosima swung her legs up to rest on the corner of her desk and breathed out a small sigh. "You know I can't do that, Rachel. I'm in the middle of my thesis."

"I've made arrangements with your professor already."

"What?" Her hand hung impotently in the air. "I—You can't just—Why?"

"It appears there has been a bit of a..." She paused again, and Cosima could clearly see her lips pursing ever so slightly and her eyes suppressing a heavy roll. "...Situation with the science consultant for one of our shows. I need someone I can trust."

"Well, Rach, I'd love to help out but like I said, I'm kinda in the middle of it so..."

"We'll pay you handsomely for your services, of course." Rachel continued as if Cosima hadn't said anything at all. "And Dr. Luchkey has been quite kind in providing you with a medical excuse for needing to be out of Minneapolis for a few months. Your adviser has agreed you can continue your research at the University of California facilities to work on your thesis in the meantime."

"But I have cultures!" Her legs dropped to the floor and she rose to her feet, waving her hand frantically in the air. "I need to be here, Rachel!"

"I've contacted a medical transport company, your cultures will be well taken care of. You simply need to provide them with locations and inventory."

Cosima grit her teeth together, her eyes fluttering shut. "So, let me get this straight. You had my oncologist tell my teacher my cancer's gone out of remission and somehow paid off UCLA to let me use their facilities so I can do something you could just as easily have paid a scientist in LA to do?"

"Your flight leaves tomorrow morning, I've had Martin email you the relevant information."

"You're joking, right?" It was her final coup, the unlikely concept that Rachel may be paying her back for all the torment she'd inflicted on her in high school.

"I wouldn't joke about such an important matter, Cosima." Her voice had never lost its icy tinge, not even with Cosima, not even once in the entire sixteen years they'd known each other. She'd also never lost an argument.

Cosima shrugged, looking out the window at the world sparkling and broken into splinters by the frost accumulated on the pane. It might be nice to get away from the cold for a while, too, she figured. And UCLA's facilities would be as good as UM's. Maybe even better, given the level of funding it received.

"Yeah. Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Excellent."

The line went dead after that and she heaved another sigh. Sixteen years and not even a goodbye at the end of the phone call.

Rachel was not the one waiting for Cosima at the airport, nor was she the one who showed up at her hotel room door to take her to the studio the next morning. In fact, Cosima didn't see Rachel at all until Martin led her inside the gaping hangar-like building the TV show was being shot in. Rachel was on her phone, as usual, speaking in another language and watching the crew scurry around the set like an eagle with a whole field of mice in her gaze. When they approached, she quickly ended the call and handed her cell phone off to her assistant. Cosima wondered if the person on the other end of that call didn't get a goodbye or if Rachel made a point to be particularly discourteous to her.

"Thank you, Martin. That will be all for now." Martin nodded, and went to go stand out of earshot but easily within Rachel's sight, just in case she needed him. "Lovely to see you, Cosima." She said, turning back to face the bustle of the show being prepped for shooting. "You're looking well." But she wasn't looking at her at all, hadn't looked at her for more than ten seconds.

"Yeah, thanks. Ditto." Cosima tried to see what Rachel was seeing in what seemed to be an utter chaos of bodies hauling things back and forth, taping things to the ground, fiddling with electronic equipment.

"I trust your accommodations are satisfactory?"

Cosima chuckled. "Yeah. I mean, I would've thought you could do better than the Four Seasons for your favorite sister, but it's good enough."

Rachel looked over at her, eyes flickering up and down her frame briefly before returning to the set. "Hmm."

"So, what is this show? You never told me." Cosima asked. She wanted to get some sort of toehold in this world, to understand something about what was happening around her. Rachel clearly ruled this place, and that unsettled her to no end. Rachel with power was always trouble.

"It's titled _Silicone Hearts_."

"What's it about?"

"A woman discovers she's been genetically engineered by the government to be a super spy, but was smuggled out of the program by an underground network of political radicals." Rachel couldn't sound more disinterested in the whole endeavor if she tried, despite the fact that she was directly responsible for its development and production.

"Let me guess, they find her and she needs to fight against them for her freedom? Anti-hero tackles the corrupt military sorta thing?"

"Precisely. I'm surprised you haven't seen it, actually. It seems right up your alley." Cosima couldn't tell if this was a compliment or an insult. Maybe it was simply a benign observation. Based on Rachel's general air of disdain, she was leaning toward insult.

"You know I don't have time for TV, Rachel."

"No, of course not. Just as you have no time for dating."

"Hey!" Cosima turned to her, hands rising to her hips. "That's not fair. I just got out of a very serious relationship."

"Two years ago." Rachel confirmed, nodding her chin just slightly. "And there has been no one since then."

"Okay, fine. So, maybe I've been going through a dry spell. It happens. I have a lot on my plate." Cosima huffed, crossing her arms petulantly over her chest.

"Miss Manning!" Rachel ignored Cosima's comment, and waved a hand toward herself at the crew member she'd summoned.

The woman walked over with a deliberate molasses slowness, and stopped a few feet in front of them. She brushed a handful of wild flyaway hair over her head, leaving it flopped asymmetrically off to the side. "What can I do for you, your highness?"

Rachel let the dig slip by, as though it hadn't bothered her in the least. "Miss Manning, would you consider two years without sex a dry spell?"

Manning laughed, raising her eyebrows and shifting her weight to the other foot. "Depends. Are we talking about you? Cause if we are, I'd say it's a miracle you've had sex at all. Maybe if they were a necrophiliac or something. You know, one of those people who likes shagging someone who feels like a block of ice."

"Save your insults for someone who cares and answer the question, please." Rachel replied. "Would you consider two years of chastity a dry spell?"

Sarah readjusted the coil of wire slung around her shoulder. "I'd call it being lost in the bloody desert."

"Thank you, Miss Manning. Now, would you please go retrieve Mr. Smith for me?"

"Do I look like your lapdog?" Manning scoffed. "Go get him yourself."

Rachel reached into her pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill, folded in half. She held it between her index and middle finger and looked the crewmember directly in the eye.

"Now you're just being insulting." Manning mumbled, but snatched the bill anyway and dumped the load of wire from her shoulder to the ground. She turned and stalked off toward the back of the set.

Once she was gone, Rachel tipped her head toward Cosima. A ghost of a smile played in the depths of her pupils. "I think the change in location may do you some good. Perhaps you can find someone who will pique your interest here."

"Yeah, maybe." Cosima sighed. She was thoroughly embarrassed and beaten by the conversation. Lost in the desert, she thought, what did that even mean? Sure, it had been a while, but she was just super busy all the time. And it wasn't like she was unhappy. She just didn't want to date.

"Arrêtes!" A voice cut through the din around them and Cosima glanced instinctively over her shoulder at the source of the sound. "Arrêtes que tu dire!" The woman on the phone seemed tired. She couldn't tell if she was the sort of person that had bags naturally ever-present around her eyes, in the way that heroin-chic look seemed so popular in Hollywood these days, or if she were abnormally frustrated and exhausted from whatever conversation she was having. "C'est difficile pour moi, aussi. Oui." She grumbled, running a hand through hair dyed blonde. The dark brown of her natural hair color showed easily and heavily at the roots, which somehow seemed to suit her; as though warning you her light beauty could not be trusted, that there was a darkness lingering just beneath. Storm clouds threatening an otherwise beautiful sunny day. "Non, non. Tu ne peux pas venir ici. Parce que, parce que..."

Cosima realized at that point that she was staring and, even worse, Rachel had noticed her staring so she quickly redirected her gaze to the little stand where a tall man was arranging various makeups in front of a brightly lit mirror. She watched him as he grouped the makeup neatly by type and color, laying them with a practiced precision. She should be in the lab, she thought suddenly. What the hell was she doing, indulging Rachel's whims about her sex life when she was so close to completing her doctorate? The feeling gnawed away in her chest like a rat cutting a hole in the baseboards.

"Merde." The voice caught her again, this time much quieter, and she snuck another quick glance at the blonde, whose eyes were now shut tightly and phone dangling in her hand by her hip.

"Miss Cormier." Rachel spoke from next to her, and the unexpected sound of her voice seemed to have a similar effect on the blonde as it had on Cosima the day before because she startled.

"Oh." Her eyes shot open and looked around until she noticed Cosima and Rachel standing there. She made it to them in a few strides of her impossibly long legs. "Hello, Miss Duncan. How are you this morning?"

"I'm well, thank you, and yourself?" The conversation was so stilted and canned Cosima wanted to laugh again. She had the feeling of not really being in this world. As though she were invisible and could simply observe the goings-on without needing to engage in it or think of the repercussions of her actions. Perhaps that was simply the magic of being on a television set.

Miss Cormier smiled wearily, tugging up the corners of her lips without any sparkle in her eyes or a single tooth in sight. "Ready to get a start on this season."

"I'm pleased to hear that. Before you begin, I have someone I'd like for you to meet." She removed one of her hands from where it had been clasped tightly with the other in front of her pencil skirt and motioned to Cosima. "This is Cosima Niehaus, she'll be the new science consultant for this season."

"Oh. Oh!" Cormier reached her hand out. "I'm Delphine Cormier. I play Dr. Houston on the show so I presume we'll be working together at some point."

"Pleasure." Cosima replied, smiling. Delphine's hand was soft and warm and only slightly damp from the California heat. Their hands dropped and she added, "although, I have to be honest. I've never seen the show so I'm not entirely sure what you being Dr. Houston means?"

Rachel cut in. "Dr. Houston is the scientist who is aiding Petra in discovering what the government has altered about her."

Cosima shook her head, trying to hide her smirk by looking to the floor. "Of course she is." She muttered to herself.

Truthfully, Cosima rarely watched TV. For several reasons she had ready to recite at the drop of a hat, the foremost being that she really didn't have the time or energy to invest into something that lasted so incredibly long. The rest being some variation on 'Hollywood has no imagination anymore.' If she were being entirely honest with herself, a large part of that list would be taken up by 'Sophie had a Netflix addiction.' That had been the true beginning of her distaste for TV, when she found that just being reminded of certain shows would bring up the past. They would jog the smell of the hospital room toward the end of her long battle with the illness, somehow both grimy and antiseptic. And this would inevitably bring up the way Sophie would bring her laptop and DVDs and curl up in that tiny bed next to her. Which would lead to remembering the feeling of her body snuggled in flush against her own, careful not to press down on her chest. She would remember that Sophie laughed at the dumbest jokes, or that she had the irritating habit of shouting at particularly tense moments as though the characters could hear her.

And fuck, she really didn't need to think about that woman more than she already did. It had been two years, for Christ's sake. As annoyed as she was with Rachel's methodology, maybe she was right. Maybe a sort-of vacation from her life as it was could do her some good.

"I'm sorry?" Delphine asked.

When Cosima glanced back up, she saw the blonde's lips pursed out slightly, an indignant eyebrow cocked up. "Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just... I don't watch a lot of TV, and I guess I'm not used to how predictable it is. I mean, not that that's necessarily a bad thing or anything, I just—"

"Spare us the rambling, please, Cosima." Rachel cut in, an amused smirk on her face.

"Right. Yeah." Cosima glanced back down and rubbed at her bicep.

"Okay, then." Delphine dragged out the 'O' slightly, then looked over at the tall man with his makeup station.

"Are you ready yet? I've been waiting ages over here." He called, with a bit more drama than Cosima thought truly necessary.

"You know, I will be very soon. I just need a quick cigarette." Delphine called back, reaching into the bag thrown over her shoulder.

"Oh, no." The makeup artist said, walking over to her. "No, no, no. You're quitting, remember?"

She sighed. "Yes, I remember. But perhaps now is a bad time. I'll quit when we wrap for the season."

"You'll just find another reason to keep doing it." He held his palm out and shoved one of his hips out impatiently.

"Actually," Cosima raised a hand, garnering the attention of the small group—save Rachel, of course, who had moved on to speaking on her cell phone again. When had Martin come by with it? Cosima hadn't even noticed. "I could use a smoke, too."

"And who the hell are you?" The tall man asked, waving the horsehair brush in his hand indignantly.

"Cosima Niehaus. The new science consultant." She reached her hand out, but he just stared at it with a withering gaze. She retracted it. "Don't worry, I'll make sure she only smokes half of one."

"Hmm." He glanced her up and down.

"You know, scientifically speaking, it's really not good for you to quit smoking suddenly. A gradual downslope is totes the best way to go." She added.

"Five minutes." He conceded, flicking his gaze back to Delphine. "Then I expect your tight little arse in my chair."

"Of course." Delphine breathed out a relieved sigh.

"Rad." Cosima grinned again, feeling in her pocket for the joint she'd rolled earlier. "Shall we?" She motioned to the door.

Delphine nodded, and they took a few steps before Rachel's voice called to them again. "Miss Cormier?" They both turned to look at her, hand placed flush over the receiver. "Don't smoke anything Cosima offers you. And Cosima, I expect you functioning at your highest capacity today."

Cosima brought a stiff hand to her forehead in salute. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am." She sent it out jerkily then let it drop back to her side.

When they made it outside, Delphine pulled the wide green pack from her bag and placed the cigarette between her lips. "Do you smoke? Do you want one? Or does that go against the rules of being my chaperone?" She asked.

Cosima pulled the joint from her own pocket and wiggled it in front of her. "Nope, got my own."

The lighter flickered yellow light across Delphine's features for a few brief seconds then snuffed back out, letting the shadows from her hair leave dark spirals on her cheeks. After she exhaled her initial breath and handed her lighter over to Cosima, she asked. "So, what exactly is it you're smoking that I'm supposed to avoid?"

Cosima laughed, pulling the joint from her lips and blowing the smoke up toward the bright blue sky only barely dappled by clouds. It made her think of Minnesota, of the unbearable brightness of the sunlight reflecting off the snow and of the air so cold it felt like it was freezing your lungs from the inside out with every inhale. "It's only pot. Rachel's just a bit of a hardass about that kind of stuff."

Delphine hummed, eyes studying Cosima's face for a few seconds before pulling her own smoke from her lips and exhaling off to the side so it wouldn't blow into her companion's face. "I expected it to be something much worse than that."

"Nope, sorry. I'm not that interesting." Cosima replied with a grin.

"You seem pretty interesting to me."

She smiled, looking down at where her thumb toyed with a clunky black ring on her index finger. "Really?"

"Yes." Delphine chuckled, shrugging. "I mean, you don't seem interested in any of this." She waved around her. "You're not starstruck or cynical about it, either."

"That doesn't seem so strange."

"In a place like this, it's strange." Delphine assured her, leaning back against the wall. "There are either people who completely stop being able to talk around you or there are people who are trying to figure out how best to use knowing you to their advantage."

"That sounds totally exhausting." Cosima said, leaning her shoulder into the wall a few feet from Delphine. "And that's coming from a PhD student."

Delphine laughed, brushing a curl from her eye. "It is. But you're not like that. You're not taken in by any of this, are you?"

"No, I guess not."

"Which begs the question, how do you know Rachel Duncan?"

Cosima chuckled, shaking her head. "You're not gonna believe me."

"Try me."

"She's my sister."

There was a beat of silence as Delphine cocked her head to the side and squinted slightly, as though she could place Rachel's face over Cosima's and somehow see the family resemblance. Suddenly, she stopped and shook her head. "You're right. I don't believe it. You look and act nothing alike."

"Okay. Well, yeah. To be fair, she's my foster sister. My family was super bummed about not being able to have any more kids of their own so they started to take in strays. Rachel was one of them, and I don't know, I guess my parents thought they could fix her or something so they adopted her." She brought the joint back to her lips as she thought of what else to say about it, but Delphine beat her to it.

"What was she like? As a child, I mean."

Cosima blew the smoke over her shoulder then settled back against the rough stucco paint of the concrete wall. "Pretty much the same as she is now, actually. We took her in when she was—must've been twelve maybe? But she was already a cold-ass megabitch. I think losing her parents really did a number on her head."

Delphine took a drag on her own cigarette and contemplated this new information. Finally, she said. "That's very sad, don't you think? To feel so embattled for so long?"

Cosima nodded. "Yeah. I guess so. It must be exhausting at the least. No man is an island or whatevs."

There was a chime from Delphine's bag, and she pulled her phone from it. Her features darkened, storm clouds gathering again in her pupils and murking them.

"Speaking of exhausting, is that your boyfriend you were talking to earlier?"

"No." Delphine dropped the phone back in her bag, then clarified. "Sort of."

"Having a rough time?" She snuffed her joint out on the wall and returned it to her pocket, but Delphine didn't see. Her eyes were still fixed to where her phone had disappeared back into her bag.

"Yes, well. He's still in Paris. He's very upset at me for moving here, but it's what's best for my career."

"Why didn't he move here with you? I mean, I'm sure LA can't hold a candle to Paris in terms of beauty and charm and history and general awesomeness, but..." She trailed off when Delphine brought a hand up to rub at the ridge of her brow, hiding Cosima's view of her eyes when she did.

"No, it can't compare. I hate it here, I'm sure he would hate it more." She sighed and resettled her hand on the top of her head, tangled in her already messy curls. "And he is in school so he can't move here until the end of the year."

"Oh, yeah? For what?" For some reason, the mention of school made Cosima giddy. Maybe it was that familiar gnawing, the shoulds still echoing with the reminder that she hadn't even seen what would be her new lab. She hadn't even checked to make sure her cultures were undamaged.

"Fashion design."

"Oh." Never mind. The giddiness died as soon as it had started. There was nothing in common here. "Well, fuck. I'm sorry, Delphine. That sucks." She shrugged one shoulder, glancing over at where a golf cart whirred by quietly. "Long distance never works."

"No, it doesn't. Does it?"

Cosima reached out, plucking the cigarette from Delphine's hand and smashing it out against the wall. "Sorry, but I gave my word. I already let you smoke too much."

Delphine rolled her eyes. "Yes, I really don't need his attitude today." She agreed, and followed Cosima back inside.


	2. On Set

When Cosima re-entered the warehouse, she found herself face to face with a wide, impossibly toothful grin. It was a bashful one, though, wide not because of any genuine sort of happiness but instead in the way it overcompensated for the nervous eyes hidden behind large, wire-framed glasses. They glanced this way and that, up and down, anywhere but directly at her eyes. The man who held this expression was large; impossibly so for someone who struck such a small, demure figure.

  
“Hey!” The man lurched forward awkwardly, fumbling over his own single footstep and holding his hand out in the still expansive stretch of space between them. “You must be Ms. Niehaus. I'm Scott.” Then he glanced over to her companion for a brief second. His eyes immediately returned to the floor. “Hi, Ms. Cormier.”

 

If the man's blush could grow, it did. Cosima looked between the two of them, taking in Delphine's smile, which created a static energy in the air, and his downcast eyes which refused to meet the sparkle.

 

“Hello, Scott.” She said, then turned that brilliant smile at Cosima. “I'll see you later.” Her mouth twitched into something more impish and she added, “have fun.” And then she slipped away, over to the makeup man who had the same impatient look on his face he'd had when they'd left earlier for their brief smoke.

 

“Heyo, Scotty.” Cosima did all she could to muster some energy into her voice, though her eyes followed Delphine into the chair where she was arguing good-naturedly with the lanky man. “What can I do for you?”  
  


Scott didn't notice that she wasn't looking at him, of course, because of the aforementioned failure to make eye contact. “Oh! Um, Ms. Duncan told me to find you. I'm the writer.”

 

Her eyes snapped back to him and again she stifled a laugh. She'd always assumed she'd be wrong about the first assumptions that had popped into her mind about the people here. The sassy, working-class crew, the gay makeup and hair artists, the impossibly beautiful actresses, and the nerdy sci-fi writer who couldn't even make eye contact with a woman. Yet here they all were, in the flesh.

 

“Of course. Sorry!” She took his hand, still stretched out and hanging uncomfortably between the two of them, waiting to be useful. Cosima had the impression that was a good definition of this man, waiting to be useful. “I'm the new science consultant. You can call me Cosima.”

 

“Cool!” He said, a little too loudly, then added, “awesome. I guess we'll be working together a lot.”

 

She knew she probably wouldn't be, in fact, given that the script for this season had already been written, but still she agreed. There was something about Scott that made her not want to let him down, even if her first instinct was to stop any sense of infatuation dead in its tracks.

 

“So, uh, what can I consult you on?” She asked, glancing around the set because really, there was nothing to look at with his eyes gorilla glued to the ground.

 

“Nothing right now.” He shrugged, following her gaze to where two people were speaking in front of the laboratory set.

 

It looked relatively accurate from what she could tell: there were long tables arranged in aisles, surrounded by hoods and fridges. There were a few things she would have changed but really, it was all nitpicking. The studio did a great job of recreating science for mass consumption by an audience that couldn't tell a single atom from a molecule. Hell, if given only their scientific names, most people wouldn't be able to tell a noble gas from a heavy metal.

 

“But,” he added, “you'll probably wanna be around when they start filming 'cause the actors usually need help with pronunciation and stuff.”

 

It took a second for the words to click—she was amazed at how much this man could say in one breath—but when it did, she nodded. “You mean Delphine.” She said.

 

“Yeah. And Cal sometimes, but he's not as central of a character.” There was a beat of silence as they watched Delphine walk onto the set, settling into one of the chairs as though she'd been looking through microscopes all her life.

 

“Cal?”

 

“He's her love interest on the show.” Scott explained. “A scientist, too.”

 

“Oh.” She kept her face neutral, though an odd feeling resonated through her. She couldn't tell exactly what it was. She scanned the set for men, and settled on the most attractive one she could find. He was an older man, his features cut in stone and only slightly sagging from age. His white hair was finely distributed around his ears and sparsely over the top of his head. She hoped it was him, for some reason.

 

“That's Leekie.” Scott said, though, following her gaze. “He's the director.”

 

Cosima had heard of Leekie. If she remembered correctly, he'd made a series of thrillers that had instantly become cult favorites. She remembered Rachel mentioning him before, but all she could bring to mind specifically was her calling him an “apt director.” Which, to be fair, was more effusive praise than anyone got from her sister.

 

“Then who's Cal?”  
  
Just as she spoke, a tall man with wavy, chin-length brown hair snuck up behind Delphine. He pounced forward and covered her eyes, making her laugh. It was genuine, originating from the pit of her stomach. Cosima, somehow, could tell the difference.

 

“Him.” Scott confirmed, with a small sigh. “They're, like, perfect for each other.”

 

Cosima grit her teeth. “Yeah. They're both pretty hot, aren't they?”

 

“They swear they're not dating in real life, but I don't know. They seem pretty close. A lot of the fanfic is about them.”

 

“Fanfic?” She raised an eyebrow.

 

“Oh! Yeah, it's when fans write stories about the characters, and...”

 

She held up a hand to stop the ramble before it began. Was this how she sounded to other people? Damn, she really had to work on that. “I know what fanfic is, Scott.”

 

“Oh. Right. But most of it is about Dr. Houston and Petra.” He covered. “I'd always envisioned that as being more of a mentor relationship, but the fans are really into the idea of them hooking up.”

 

“But there's no way Delphine and the actress who plays Petra are involved?” Cosima tilted her head off to the side, a little glint of hope she felt utterly uncomfortable with sparking in her stomach.

 

Scott snorted. “No, definitely not. Aynsley and Delphine hate each other.”

 

“I can't imagine anyone hating Delphine.”

 

“You haven't met Aynsley Norris yet, have you?”

 

Cosima shook her head.

 

“Well, you'll see. They make nice for the cameras, though, since the fans are so into them together.” There was an awkward pause. He chanced a sideways glance at Cosima before adding, “I'd give anything to have a shot with a girl like Delphine.”

 

The comment knocked her off balance and she turned to look at him, watching him watch Delphine. “Do you know her well?”

 

He shook his head. “No. She barely talks to me.”

 

Cosima grimaced. She felt bad for him, lusting after a woman who would never look twice at him. Delphine was the major leagues, and Scott was striking out at tee-ball.

 

“Then why her? There are plenty of hot women on the set, aren't there?”

 

He kicked at the floor, his shoe scuffing awkwardly against the cement. “Yeah, I guess. She's just the nicest.”

 

“The other actors aren't nice?” She wanted to find that hard to believe, but somehow that also fit perfectly into her view. “Aside from Aynsley, obvs.”

 

“Cal's great, too, of course.” He shrugged. “And Sarah Stubbs in an... energetic kind of way. She's not around very much, though. Her character's comic relief, mostly. The others, though—Paul Dierden and Alison Hendrix—are pretty hard to get along with. Paul follows Sarah around like a lost puppy, and Alison only really talks to Felix and Aynsley.”

 

“Paul's dating Sarah Stubbs?”

 

He shook his head. “Sarah Manning. She's part of the crew.” He squinted, scanning the room until he found what he was looking for and pointed. It was the woman who'd been carrying the coil of wire over her shoulder earlier. Now, she was talking to a man holding a boom mic, face squinted in concentration. “I don't think they're dating.”

 

“Okay. And who's Felix?” She realized she was raining the poor guy with a barrage of questions, and quickly added, “just trying to get my bearings.”

 

He nodded, then motioned to the lanky man. “Felix is the makeup artist.”

 

Scott was pulled away from their conversation by a phone call a few minutes later, and didn't reappear for the rest of the day. She watched Delphine film her scene—it took place in a lab but there wasn't any actual science in it, just a conversation between her and Cal and later who she assumed was Aynsley. It was interesting to watch, but eventually she grew tired of seeing the same scene repeated over and over. The subtlety of the acting was lost on her completely, as far as she could tell each take was exactly the same.

 

She looked around and noticed Felix was the only person who didn't seem busy. He was sitting in the chair, boots propped up on the small desk, scrolling through something on his phone. She walked over without him hearing her and peered over his shoulder.

 

“You're on Grindr right now? Seriously?”

 

He startled, dropping his feet to the floor and closing the app quickly. “What's it to you?” He snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her with a wary pout.

 

“Nothing, I just thought it was funny.” She leaned on the back of the chair, grinning wide enough to show teeth. “So, any hotties?”

 

He watched her for a second, then pulled the app back up. He pursed his lips. “A couple.”

 

“Show me.”

 

They spent the next fifteen minutes scrolling through his options, playing Hot or Not. They had different taste in men, it turned out—it may be more accurate to say that Felix simply had _broader_ interests than Cosima—but every now and then they both agreed.

 

“Ooh. I like his glasses.” Cosima said, pointing to one of the search results. Felix tapped the picture to open his profile.

 

“Works in a morgue.” Felix laughed. “Kinky.” After a beat, he glanced up at her. “Y'know, it's nice to have some family around.”

 

Cosima glanced over at him, quirking her brow, the remnants of her smile on her face. “What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, you know. Butt buddies, muff munchers.” He rolled his hand around on his wrist in a dismissive wave.

 

“So, not confirming or denying the muff munching thing, but you do realize that I just spent fifteen minutes checking out men with you, right?”

 

“Yes, of course.” Felix had a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips which, paired with the devilish sparkle in his eye, screamed trouble. “But you've been leering at one particular _woman_ the entire time you've been here.”

 

“I--” She sputtered, as though she needed to defend herself, then let out a slow sigh. “Yeah. Okay. So, she's hot and French. Sue me.”

 

“On the contrary, I'm all for it.” He leaned back and tossed his arm over the back of the chair to be turned to her more fully. “She needs to get laid so bad and she only dates complete twats.”

 

Cosima shook her head. “Yeah. Tiny problem. She's straight.”

 

Felix waved his hand. “Women are lucky. Your sexuality's more fluid. Gay, straight, it doesn't matter. Sexy is sexy to you lot.”

 

“Sexy is sexy to all people, Felix, not just women.”

 

His eyes flickered over to where the scene was near wrapping again then back to Cosima. “Not according to science.” He stood and started arranging his makeups again. “They did a study where they hooked up electrodes or some shit to people's naughty bits, yeah? And then they showed 'em all sorts of porn and measured how turned on they got. Women got turned on by everything—even chimp porn—but men only got turned on by the porn corresponding to their sexual orientation.”

 

“Maybe that's just because men have more stringent punishments for stepping outside of their social roles.” Cosima said. She held her hand palm up, placating but still pushing. “I mean, women are rewarded for experimenting in our culture right now, men definitely aren't.”

 

“All right, everyone. Let's take five!” Leekie called, and everyone in the set began to mill around, working to reset the scene. Delphine walked over to where Felix and Cosima were standing and dropped into the chair.

 

“Another exhausting day making out with the world's most beautiful man?” Felix asked, picking up a makeup wipe and removing smudges of lipstick from around her lips.

 

“I've already told you, Felix. It's about as gratifying as making out with you would be.” She responded. She rolled her shoulders, then reached up to rub at one of them. “There's no attraction there.”

 

He held his hands up. “All right, all right. I'll let it go.” He continued what he was doing, finishing the touch-up on her lips, then put the makeup down and leaned back against the desk. “Actually, that's a perfect segue into what Cosima and I were just talking about.”

 

“Oh?” Delphine said, and raised her eyebrows. Cosima figured she had a very similar look on her own face.

 

“Yeah. Do you think women's sexuality is inherently more fluid than men's?”

 

Delphine laughed briefly, glancing back and forth between Felix and Cosima. “This is what you were talking about?”

 

The two of them both nodded silently, and Delphine sunk back into the chair, furrowing her brow and biting down softly on her lip. After fifteen seconds or so, she spoke.

  
“I don't know.” She started, tilting her head off to the side slightly. “I mean, I believe sexuality is a spectrum for all of us, yes? So...” Her hands circled one another like capoeira dancers. “Yet oftentimes we limit ourselves because our society forces us to choose one designation, and that choice reinforces our future choices. Perhaps it simply changes the way we view situations that would be otherwise sexual?”

 

Cosima leaned forward, holding up a hand. “Wait, so would you say that men show less sexual fluidity because society punishes them more harshly for homosexual behavior?”

 

“Oh. Um...” She glanced between them again and saw Felix roll his eyes. She had no idea what she was caught between, and she had the feeling she didn't want to find out. “I don't know. I mean, women are often punished for homosexual behavior as well. But... perhaps... they are simply punished for sexual transgression more regularly so it doesn't seem as direct a consequence of homosexual behavior?”

 

Cosima pouted.

 

“Well, what about you?” Felix was talking to Delphine, but he was staring directly at Cosima. “Would you ever consider switching teams for the right person?”

 

“I'd never really thought about it.” Delphine leaned back in the chair, propping her chin up on her hand. “But yes, I suppose if I met someone I really liked who was a woman it would be no problem.” She glanced over at Cosima and held her eyes for a second. Cosima's heartbeat picked up, and she swallowed down a knot in the back of her throat.

 

_Was that meant for me? It seemed like it was meant for me._   


“Delphine!” It was Leekie who was standing pointing at his wristwatch impatiently.

 

“Sorry, I have to go.” Delphine stood and jogged off.

 

Felix settled back in the chair and grinned sassily at Cosima. She flipped him the bird and wandered out the door. She started walking around in the sunshine, watching people in bright and outlandish costumes walk by. Here was a sci-fi alien, there a gentleman from the Victorian era, then a soldier in full dress uniform. Nobody seemed to notice her, though, which only added to her sense of being a silent observer. Maybe that was what made her slip in behind the tour group she found, tagging along at the back of the group.

 

They entered a different warehouse, and the guide flicked a switch, bringing to life a series of bright, fluorescent lights overhead.

 

“This...” He swept his arm theatrically to the scene before them. “Is the graveyard.” He continued to talk, but his voice had faded into the background, taken over by the quiet hum of the electric lights.

 

Before her was a series of facades and rooms, in neat rows. It reminded her some of looking into windows as you walked by at night and being able to see everything, while remaining invisible yourself. She followed dumbly behind the guide, not listening to his explanations of where the sets had come from or what would become of them. Then, quickly, they were moving on. She decided to listen to her grumbling stomach and find a cafe that didn't look too intimidating.

 

When she got back to the hotel, she pulled open her laptop and searched _Silicone Hearts_. For the first little while, she read reviews of the show. Most were irritatingly positive; the show had won several emmys and was apparently a smash hit. The first season was popular among young intellectuals and nerds alike. Many droned on about Aynsley Norris, and it wasn't until she found a website directed toward queer women that she found more than a passing reference to Delphine.

 

“Delphine Cormier is excellent as everyone's scientist ladycrush, Dr. Eileen Houston. She and Norris play excellently off each other with sizzling chemistry, despite Dr. Houston's entanglement with fellow scientist and perpetual clitblocker Charles Byron (Cal Morrison)...”

 

That was about where she stopped reading because a picture begged her attention. It was of Delphine, clad only in a purple robe that was tied loosely around her, showing far more chest than was probably realistic. Which was all well and good. But it also happened to cut off an inch above mid-thigh, showing off long, toned legs. Cosima bit her lip, and forced herself to take in the rest of the picture. Aynsley was also in the picture, standing a few feet in front of her, eyes seemingly paused mid-check out and settled somewhere on Delphine's stomach. Cal lingered in the background, bare-chested in his boxer shorts.

 

Cosima licked at her lips and shook her head. Ridiculous. It was a picture, for Christ's sake. She scrolled down some more, reading the caption (“CHARLIE, GET OUT. WE'RE TRYING TO MAKE EYES AT EACH OTHER HERE”) and barely taking in anything else. She sighed and shut the laptop.

 

Her stomach rumbled and she glanced at the radio clock, the old bulky kind made obsolete by cell phones that you could only really find in hotel rooms nowadays, and noticed it was already late. She picked up the room service menu and gave it a quick once-over. She paused over the words “veal cutlets” and frowned. She wasn't averse to eating meat, she did it regularly, but _veal_? She decided to order the only vegetarian thing on the menu—butternut squash ravioli in a cream sauce—just to spite them.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day came too quickly. She woke up to the unfamiliar beeping of the alarm clock on the nightstand and she groaned, groping around for her glasses. She finally found them and frowned when she noticed she'd left fingerprint smudges on the lenses. The alarm was still blaring. She inspected it for a second, finally finding the off button and flicked it. She padded into the shower, soaping herself with the overly-scented mini bottle of body wash. She was at the most expensive hotel in Los Angeles, after all, might as well smell like it. It was some artisinally named (ginger pear rain), mass-produced, faux scent that didn't actually smell anything like ginger, pear, or rain. Maybe she'd use her own body wash next time, after all. Martin called to let her know he was on his way to get her, but she politely declined. She wanted to eat breakfast, and nobody would mind if she were a little late anyway.

 

She pulled on a colorful, sleeveless print top that hugged close to her body and a black skirt, then slipped on all of her jewelry. She already had the beginnings of a thick tan line around her right forearm where the sun hadn't been able to reach. She considered not wearing them today, but decided against it. They had always made her feel a bit untouchable, like Wonder Woman.

 

She grabbed a book and headed down to eat at the restaurant in the lobby—an omelet with more fancy-sounding shit in it. She shook her head and buried her nose in the book until that and her coffee were sufficiently polished.

 

By the time she made it to the set it was ten AM, but she still hadn't made it inside the gate. She stood arguing with the security guard in the booth—a middle-aged man with a permanent frown and a short fuse.

 

“No, I'm serious.” Cosima sighed again. “I'm Rachel Duncan's sister, okay? Will you just please call her?”

 

“I've already told you, ma'am. I have no record of you in the system here, and Ms. Duncan is extremely busy. I can't just let you in.” They'd been at this for ten minutes now.

 

“She'll be more upset if she finds out you wouldn't let me on the lot than she would if you'd just call. Her.” She was speaking slowly, knowing it sounded rude and unable to care. There was the sound of car tires pulling up the drive, crunching rubber on hard tar. “I'll tell you again. I'm the new science consultant for _Silicone Hearts._ Usually, her assistant Martin picks me up but I was running late so I decided to transport myself.” The car's horn honked, and Cosima spun around, holding up her pointer finger to the driver, who was hidden behind the glare off the windshield. “Just...” She began then, realizing she had started yelling, dropped her voice to a calmer pitch. “One minute.” She turned back to the guard.

 

“Could you step aside, ma'am? I need to actually do my job now.”

 

Cosima grit her teeth and stepped off to the side so that the car could roll up to the booth. And who else should be in it but Delphine Cormier.

 

“Is there a problem, Arthur?” Delphine asked, smiling sweetly up at him.

 

“No, none at all. Just another fan trying to get on the lot by saying she works on the show.”

 

“Delphine!” Cosima breathed out. She rested her hands on the passenger side window of the convertible and grinned. “Please tell this man who I am.”

 

Art raised an eyebrow, then glanced back to Delphine. “You know her?”

 

Delphine turned and studied Cosima's features for a second, a smile playing in her eyes and the twist of her brow. She looked back to Art. “I've never seen her before.”

 

Cosima's jaw dropped open a ways, then she brought it shut and started shaking her head. “Funny.” She muttered. She straightened, bringing her hands to her hips. “You should go into comedy, seriously.”

 

Delphine laughed, and reached over to open the passenger side door. “Get in.”

 

“So...” Art's frown had deepened further.

 

“This is Cosima Niehaus, she's the new science consultant.” Delphine explained.

 

Art wrote down the name and grabbed a visitor's badge. “All right, I'll find out what happened to the paperwork and make sure this doesn't happen again.” He handed the badge to Delphine, who passed it on to Cosima. “Sorry about that, Ms. Niehaus.”

 

“No problem, Arthur.”

 

He nodded and raised the mechanical arm so they could pass through.

 

As soon as they were out of ear shot, Cosima spoke. “I take back everything I said to Scott about you yesterday. You're not nice.”

 

“You like it.” Was all Delphine said as she maneuvered slowly toward the staff parking area, A small smirk resting easily on her face. She really looked like a movie star today: confident, sly, hair blowing about in the wind, large sunglasses settled on her nose. She looked more beautiful than usual like this—she looked careless. Free. It suited her.

 

Cosima sighed and shook her head. “Yeah. I do. Maybe I'm a masochist. Pinch me, let's find out.”

 

Delphine did not pinch her, but instead took a break from scoping out a parking spot to glance over at her. “I would, but you couldn't afford me.”

 

“What?” Cosima twisted in her seat and brought her knee up to turn fully to Delphine. “I'm staying at a suite in the Four Seasons! I could definitely afford your domination services.”

 

“No, Rachel could. You don't even have a car.” She raised one eyebrow. “Or have you forgotten how I saved you at the gate a minute ago?”

 

“Oh, my God. You're gonna hold that over my head forever, aren't you?” She huffed and fell back against the leather seat.

  
“It's okay.” She found a spot and parked the car. “It's nice getting to play the knight in shining armor instead of the damsel in distress every now and then.” She turned her head, her eyes connecting with Cosima's.

 

“Well, in that case, feel free to ride in on your noble Porsche and scoop me up any time.”

 

“I will.” Delphine looked at the steering wheel for a second, her hands squeezed then relaxed around it. Then she turned to face Cosima fully, her grin fading into something barer. “You said you talked to Scott about me. What did he say?”

 

“The guy thinks he's in love with you. You're, like, all he can talk about.” She threw her hands in the air. “Yak yak yak Delphine's so pretty and so nice yadda yadda Cal blah blah blah.”

 

Delphine's face clouded again, and she pulled her bag over her shoulder. “Oh.” She pushed open the car door and moved to get out, but Cosima grasped her forearm. She turned back with a curious look, obvious even beneath the dark glasses.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Nothing.” Delphine waved the question off, trying again to stand just to be held firmly in place by Cosima's hand on her arm.

 

Her grip wasn't tight enough to _really_ hold her if she'd wanted to leave, just enough to let her know she wasn't quite satisfied by that answer.

 

“No, it's not.” She loosened her hold but didn't remove her hand. “What's wrong?”

 

“It's just...” Delphine inhaled deeply through her nose, then let it out slowly before continuing. “It gets old having people drooling all over you all the time. Having them speculate about who you're dating. Nothing goes unremarked upon.” She pulled the glasses off so that she could rub at her eyes.

 

“I can imagine that would get annoying pretty fast.” Cosima said, softly. She let her thumb start trailing back and forth across her bicep. “I know it's probably not comparable or whatever, but being a woman in science can feel a lot like that. Like, people constantly either sexualizing you or watching you closely for any sign of weakness or incompetence. It's like everybody expects you to fail.”

 

Delphine replaced her glasses and watched her silently for a minute. Cosima felt herself begin to squirm. She didn't often feel pressure to say the right thing—she didn't believe in right and wrong in such absolute terms. But now, she realized, she was worried Delphine would simply walk away from her.

 

“It's nice to meet someone who gets it.” Her voice was very quiet when she spoke, and her head hung down slightly, which made Cosima fairly certain she wasn't actually looking at her.

 

“I could talk to him, if you want? Kinda try to steer him away from being a creeper?”

 

Delphine shook her head. “No, I can handle Scott. He's harmless. It's...” She trailed off, then moved to stand again.

 

This time, Cosima let her and instead scrambled out of the car herself and jogged to catch up with her a few paces away. “It's what? Is there someone harassing you?”

 

“No.”

 

“I don't believe you.”

 

Delphine stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “Drop it, Cosima.”

 

She raised her hands. “Okay, okay.” Delphine seemed to relax a little, and she added, “I just want you to know if there's something going on you can tell me, okay? You can trust me.”

 

Delphine reached up and pulled off her sunglasses, this time dropping them in her purse. She replaced them with fingers rubbing at her brow. “I know. I'm sorry for snapping at you.”

 

“I'm sorry for prying. I know you probably have people asking questions about your personal life, like, all the time.”

 

Her hand paused and she studied Cosima's face for a brief second. “Okay. Let's get all of this out of the way, shall we?”

 

“What?”

 

“Cal and I are friends. We're not dating. Aynsley and I aren't dating, either. In fact, I'm single at the moment and don't particularly care for Aynsley in general. I've never feuded with Allison Hendrix, I think she's a good actress. I'm not really interested in talking about the man from Paris. I very much value my privacy and if anything ever gets to the press, I'll never speak to you again.” She started numbering off her answers with her fingers, tapping the tip of each newly raised one with the pointer finger of her right hand

 

Cosima reached up and grabbed both of them to hold them still. “Delphine, you don't have to do that. Okay? I don't care. Really. Tell me what you want, when you want. I'd never go to the tabloids with your personal life.”

 

Delphine looked down to where Cosima held her hands, and Cosima quickly dropped them back to her sides.

 

Delphine narrowed her eyes. “What are you playing at?”

 

“Um, friendship? I guess?” Cosima responded. “I hadn't really thought about any sort of long-term strategy. I was sort of just, you know...” She wiggled her arm in a wave in front of her chest. “Going with the flow.”

 

“Oh.” Delphine turned and started continuing back toward the set, though her pace was much slower this time. Cosima caught up easily and fell into step beside her.

 

“So, are we gonna talk about what just happened or should I assume I need to back off? I'm not trying to force anything on you, I just enjoy your company.”

 

Delphine bit her lip and kept her gaze on the building looming before them. “I enjoy your company, too. I suppose I find it a bit hard to trust people's motivations lately.” She looked over at Cosima again, worry etched into the lines of her forehead.

 

Cosima just smiled in response, and bumped her shoulder into Delphine's. “Well, I'll just have to prove my trustworthiness then, won't I? How do I gain access to temple Cormier?”

 

Delphine chuckled. “I think you already have.” She admitted softly. Finally, she was smiling back at Cosima, the expression seeming just as gentle as her voice.

 

“Delphine Cormier, are you flirting with me?” Cosima tented her fingertips over her heart.

 

“What if I were?” They stopped in front of the door.

 

Cosima opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came. She was an abnormally quick-witted person, but Delphine had shortcircuited her brain. All her blood seemed to be flowing into an entirely different region altogether.

 

Delphine laughed. “I'm just teasing you, Cosima.” She gave Cosima a nudge of her own then pulled open the door.

 

“You sure are.” Cosima muttered, blowing out a breath before following her inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So.... I realized while I was writing this chapter that four installments mayyy have been an eensy bit of a stretch in terms of my ability to be brief. So, it'll probably be longer than that. Also, keep in mind I said "minimal angst" not "no angst," because I just have trouble writing characters who feel complex and realistic to me when they're just happy all the time. I'm an INFP. It's just how I work. Anyway, enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

“Cosima, you're here.” Cal called out, jogging up to the two of them as they entered the building. “Thank God. How do you say this word?” He held out the paper in his hand and pointed to a spot in the middle of it.

 

She squinted and leaned forward to see it, then found it on the page and chuckled. “Oh. Yeah. That's a neurotransmitter. Phenethylamine.”

 

“Feenathighlomine?”

 

She chuckled. “No. Close, though. Here, say it after me. Phen.”  
  


“Fen.”  
  


“Ethyl.”  
  


“Ethel.”

 

“Amine.”

 

“Ameen.”

 

“See? You got it.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Now you just have to put it all together. Phenethylamine.” She strung her arms out like opening an accordion.

 

“Fenethelameen.”

 

“You're a pro. All the big, scary science jargon is really just compound words, so once you have the building blocks down, it's pretty easy to get.” She felt the compulsion—the strange sort of tingle one has when they're certain they're being watched—and looked over at Delphine, who was simply smiling at her. “What?”

 

“Nothing. You're just very patient. It's appreciated.”

 

“Well, it is sorta my job.” She looked back over at Cal, then to Delphine again. “Didn't the last consultant help you with this stuff during your read-throughs? That's a thing, right?”

 

Cal sighed. “She was supposed to, but she was already sorta MIA by then.”

 

“What happened to her? I've never found out. Did she just stop showing up?”

 

“Basically.” Delphine confirmed with a short nod. “She and Leekie were... He's somewhat of a womanizer.”

 

“I heard he gave her the clap.” Cal added with a shy grin.

 

“Wow.” She looked over at Leekie, and suddenly saw the tall, severe, graying man in a whole new light. “Him? Really?”

 

“Fame does strange things to people.” Delphine said softly.

 

Cal just nodded his agreement. “Speaking of the rumor mill, can I ask what brought you here?” He said, then quickly added, “I just mean, people are saying Duncan brought you here to get you laid but there's no way that's true, right?”

 

Cosima sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “Unfortunately, that one's at least partly true.”

 

Delphine frowned. “I can't believe someone like you would have trouble finding a partner.”

 

“Yeah. Come on, you're young and hot and smart as hell.” Cal pitched in.

 

“Well, thanks. That means a lot coming from LA's hottest not-couple.” The two actors smiled and glanced at each other, then back to Cosima. “But it's not that I haven't had the opportunity, I just haven't wanted to.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I went through a pretty serious breakup a while back, and I guess I'm not entirely over it yet.”

 

“How long were you two together?”

 

“Six years.” Cosima responded softly. “She left me practically on my death bed.”

 

Delphine's brow furrowed, showing the soft crease in between her brows again. Cosima didn't like that Delphine was often concerned enough for it to show, but she did like the way it looked. It added a solemnity to her face that somehow made it even more striking.

 

“Your death bed? Were you sick?”

 

Cosima nodded. “Lung cancer.”  
  


“Holy shit. I had no idea.” Cal ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a slow breath through rounded lips. “I'm so sorry.”

 

“It's all right.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Seriously, it was years ago.” She splayed her arms wide, putting her health on display. “And I'm better now. Healthy as a horse.”

 

Delphine giggled, and Cosima felt the smile start to strain less on her cheeks, felt it start to grow naturally.

 

“Morrison!” Leekie shouted from across the room. “Are you ready to begin yet?”

 

“Coming!” He shouted back, then turned to Delphine and Cosima. “I'll see you ladies around.” He turned and jogged over to the set, hair bouncing like a shampoo commercial.

 

“I should probably go, as well.” Delphine said, pointing her thumb behind her toward the waiting crew of makeup and hair artists. She bit her lip and tilted her head down to the floor, keeping her eyes locked with Cosima's. “But I will see you later, yes?”

 

“Yes. Definitely.”

 

Cosima found an unoccupied chair in the corner and pulled her laptop out of her bag. She looked up every now and then to be sure no one needed her, but Cal seemed to be doing just fine with the words Scott had forced into his mouth, and Delphine had disappeared off somewhere, probably to get dressed and ready for her upcoming scenes. Felix was busy brushing blush onto the cheeks of a small brunette who was ranting and flailing her arms around in dramatic gestures. Aaaaanndddd.... That was about the extent of everyone she knew on the set. She saw who she recognized as Aynsley Norris talking on her cell phone while the hair person attempted to flatiron her hair without hurting her or the device, and she chuckled. She had no desire to make friends with her, anyway.

 

She returned her attention to her laptop and pulled up a few articles she'd saved as PDFs and her thesis and began tapping away. The rhythm of people around her helped her to concentrate, and it was mostly quiet save for Cal's voice faintly droning across the room, punctuated occasionally with the woman who had been ranting to Felix's. Alison Hendrix, she thought she recognized her from one of the pictures she'd found online, but they'd never officially met before. She played a character named Stephanie.

 

“You're playing with fire, Charlie.” Alison-as-Stephanie warned. “You need to drop it or they'll come for you next.”

 

“I can't drop it, Steph.” He fired back, balling his fists against the metal table he was seated at.

 

“Why not?!” Stephanie shouted. She was standing and she leaned over him, tugging gently on his chin with her fingertips, forcing him to look at her. “You're doing it for her, aren't you?” Her voice was quiet now. “She's going to take you down with her.”  
  


“Stephanie. What are you doing?”

 

“I never stopped loving you, Charlie.”

 

Cosima snorted to herself and shook her head, focusing her attention back down to her laptop. Scott's writing could really use some work. Then again, none of this was in context. There was no music, no editing. Just people in a room saying ridiculous, dramatic shit. Maybe if she were seeing the final version it would be different.

 

“It's rubbish, innit?” A voice came from behind her, and she jumped a little. Her laptop began to slide off her legs but she caught it and turned to look at the source of the comment. It was Sarah, the woman who'd been carrying the coil of wire the first day.

 

“What?”

 

“The writing.” She clarified, a smirk slashing across her face. “It's shit.”

 

“Oh. Yeah.” She cleared her throat and saved her work, then shut her laptop lid. “They're doing a pretty good job with it, though.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Sarah leaned forward onto the back of the chair next to Cosima. “What are you doing over here all by yourself?”

 

“Working on my thesis.”

 

“You're in University?”

 

Cosima nodded, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

 

“Of course you are.” She muttered.

 

Cosima felt the words like a slap in the face. “What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shake her. She wanted to make her know just how hard she'd had to fight to get where she was, being in school. But causing a scene during filming was a surefire way to make everyone around her angry beyond belief, so she clenched her jaw shut tight.

 

“You're Duncan's sister, right?” Sarah asked after another minute of silently watching the scene in front of them.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sarah regarded her from the corner of her eye for a few beats, then said “how did you turn out so normal?”

 

“We're not related by blood. My parents adopted her when she was twelve.”

 

Sarah's eyes narrowed and scanned Cosima's face. “You're screwing with me, right?”

 

Cosima raised an eyebrow. “No, why would I lie about that?”

 

She returned her gaze to the set. “Guess I just never woulda taken probitch for a foster kid.”

 

“Now, now. What are my two favorite coworkers talking about?” Felix came up behind them and wrapped his arms around their shoulders, squeezing them in tightly. “And look at you,” he squeezed Cosima's shoulder again, “watching a scene that doesn't have your girlfriend in it.”

 

“Ha ha.” Cosima deadpanned. “Please don't be that person that thinks queers can't be friends with beautiful people. Seriously, it's outdated.”

 

“It's not me you need to worry about, love. I'm sure you have plenty of experience with unrequited straight crushes. Delphine on the other hand, she's...” He tilted his head off to the side in thought, then finally selected a word. “Guarded. Just be careful, yeah?”

 

“Okay.” Cosima could feel her lips purse tightly.

 

“Cut!” Leekie yelled. “Everybody take five, then we're going to shoot scene twenty-four!”

 

“Ooh. You're gonna like that one.” Felix nudged her with his elbow.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“You'll see.” Sarah said. Then, suddenly, she straightened. “I have an idea. Can I borrow your laptop?”

 

 

 

 

 

Eileen was looking through a microscope when Charlie opened the door and stepped inside. He was soaked to the bone in “rain,” making his tight white t-shirt almost see-through. His khakis were plastered to him, as well. Eileen looked up from her notes and glanced over at him.

 

“Charlie!” She stood and walked over to him. She took his face in her hands and smoothed droplets of water from his beard. “There you are. Where have you been?”

 

“Eileen.” He shut his eyes and covered her hands with his own. “I have to tell you something.”

 

There was an obvious shift in Eileen; from loving tenderness to wariness, even panic. “What's going on?”

 

“It's Steph. We were in the lab together, and...” He placed a kiss on one of Eileen's palms, then pulled them down so he was cradling them between their hips. “She kissed me. I... I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear. I told her no.”

 

Eileen looked down to their hands and smoothed her thumb over the back of his. “It's okay, baby.” She looked up at him.

 

“No, it's not. I feel like I failed you.”

 

“No, Charlie.” She leaned up to kiss him gently. “No. It's okay. We're okay. Everything is fine.”

 

Charlie was still panting, tears welled in his eyes. “She meant nothing to me.”

 

“I know.” Eileen took a step back from him and grasped at the hem of her shirt. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes as she slowly pulled it up and over her head. Then, she let it slip from her fingers to the floor and...

 

A heavy guitar riff cut through the air, pounding out classic rock'n'roll sex drive from loud speakers somewhere out of the shot. Delphine and Cal both started laughing, with the latter leaning forward onto his knees to catch his breath. Delphine ran her hands through her hair and bit her lip, beginning to swing her hips in time with the steady beat of the drums.

 

Next to Cosima, Felix let out a wolfwhistle and the crew burst out into cheers. Cal jogged over to where Felix, Sarah and Cosima were standing and grabbed Sarah and Cosima, who both turned to grab Felix. He tugged them onto the set so the five of them could dance together, Delphine shimmying her shoulders toward Cosima, and her returning the gesture wholeheartedly. She grabbed her hand and spun her around in a circle, and Delphine sauntered forward again, swaying her hips seductively as she moved in closer to her.

 

Then the music cut off as suddenly as it had started. Everyone looked up to where none other than Rachel Duncan stood, holding the cord in her hand. “I don't believe this is what I'm paying you for.”

 

“Come now, Rachel. They were just having a little fun.” Leekie walked over to her, hands held out in placation. “\We'll put it up on Twitter, the fans will love it.”

 

Rachel glanced from him to the group now standing stock still on the set. They all had the sense they were waiting for a thumbs up or down from the emperor. “Perhaps you're right.” She sighed. “Send me the footage, I want to okay it before it goes up.”

 

“Of course.” Leekie agreed.

 

“Although, I did expect more from you, Cosima.” She added, turning her attention back to her sister.

 

“What? Why are you blaming me?”

 

Rachel raised her eyebrows, never losing the air of disinterest so characteristic of her. “Am I expected to believe someone else on the crew has a double helix cover on their laptop?”

 

“Oh. Shit.” Cosima said with a small laugh.

 

“It was me.” Sarah took a step forward, challenging. “I just used her laptop.”

 

“Of course it was.”

 

Sarah's jaw clenched. “What's that supposed to mean?” She growled.

 

Felix grabbed Sarah's arm. “Let it go, Sarah.”

 

Sarah balled her fists but said nothing else.

 

“Ms. Niehaus, I need to speak to you in private.” Rachel continued, dropping the conversation as though she didn't have one very pissed off Brit shooting daggers at her.

 

“Anything for you, sister dearest.” Delphine brought a comforting hand to Cosima's shoulder and shot her a small smile, which Cosima returned wholeheartedly. “Don't worry, I'm fine.”

 

She and Rachel walked over to another corner as Leekie and the crew moved to set up the next take.

 

“I've been informed that you haven't been in to the lab at the University of California yet.” Rachel said, voice clipped. “I want you to know I expect you to be working on your thesis at the same time you're working here.”

 

“It's been two days.” Cosima replied, furrowing her brow. “I'll get around to it.”

 

“Yes, I'm sure. You may finish up here today, of course, but you won't be needed for the next few days. Take a long weekend and get your affairs in order.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

 

“Well, okay, then. See ya around.” Cosima muttered—to herself, of course, because Rachel was already out the door.

 

She returned to her laptop and continued to work on her thesis. The next take passed without incident. And the next. A few more. Then, there was a lull. The scene, which had become such familiar background noise, hadn't restarted yet. She glanced up to see what was happening, and saw Leekie leaned over Delphine, one hand on either side of her on the table. He was pressed in tightly against her back, speaking softly into her ear. Delphine's face was twisted in a grimace she was trying to pass off as concentration. She looked up from what he was indicating on the table and caught Cosima's eye. Before she knew what she was doing, she had made her way across the room and was standing in front of them. Leekie looked up.

 

“Can I help you, Ms. Niehaus?” He asked.

 

“Yeah, I saw you were fiddling around with those slides. I thought maybe you could use some consulting?”

 

“We're fine.” He replied tersely.

 

“Actually.” Delphine cut in, glancing up from where Leekie still loomed behind her over to Cosima. “Perhaps Cosima may have some good insight into this. We were just discussing what it would look like to prepare a slide.”

 

“Yeah, I can totes help.” She walked around the table and stood next to Leekie, who had straightened from where he'd held Delphine captive between his arms. “Excuse me, can I just...” She moved to the side, awkwardly forcing Leekie farther away from Delphine. She took his place standing behind her, but reached around her to start fiddling with the slides. Eventually, Aldous got bored and wandered off.

 

“So, you just want to use your eyedropper here.” Cosima motioned to the empty tool, then picked it up as well as the slide. “And put your sample on it.” She pantomimed carefully placing a few drops on the slide.

 

“Cosima.” Delphine's hand came up and covered hers. “I know how to do this. The last consultant showed me.”

 

“Then why...” She trailed off. Realization hit her. “It's him.”

 

Delphine sighed and leaned her elbows onto the table. “It's fine.”

 

“No, it's not.” Cosima said through grit teeth.

 

“Cosima, please. Just drop it. There's nothing to be done. This is just how things work in this world.”

 

Cosima's lips twitched, but she nodded her agreement. “Okay. Consider it dropped.” She turned to start walking away, but Delphine's hand on her elbow stopped her.

 

“Thank you, by the way.” She said softly. “Though, I believe I'm supposed to be the knight in shining armor, aren't I?”

 

Leekie looked at his watch and called out, “All right, everyone! Let's take a break for lunch, then we'll pick back up here in an hour.”

 

Cosima watched him as he talked, then returned her gaze back down to Delphine. “Can I show you something?”

 

Delphine nodded, and let Cosima drag her out of the warehouse.

 

“So, I know I said I'd drop it but why do you put up with that? Why not tell him off?” Cosima was having trouble wrapping her head around going in to work every day to be harassed and not doing anything about it. Cosima was a woman of action, whether it was a good idea or not.

 

“He's a very powerful man in this world, and I am almost thirty. This show is my final chance at a lasting career.” She shrugged. “So, I put up with it. He does it to all of us. Alison and Aynsley, too.”

 

“There's no way this is your last shot at a lasting career.” Cosima saw something in Delphine's face she hadn't been expecting. She was used to cloudy—to subdued anger and disappointment and even sadness—but this was something different. A bitter resignation perhaps in the pull of her lips.

 

“No, you're right. I could go stand around half-naked in action films for the next two years and then retire.”

 

Cosima stopped short of the door they were about to enter and tugged at her elbow so she would turn to look at her. “I don't believe that. You're incredible at your job.”

 

Delphine rolled her eyes and looked to the ground. “Thanks.”

 

“I'm being serious, Delphine.”

 

She looked back up at Cosima, raw and exhausted. “I know.”

  
“Good.” Cosima pulled open the door to the warehouse and flicked the light switch on.

 

“The graveyard?” Delphine laughed, though she let Cosima lead her in deeper. They zigzagged around sets until Cosima found her favorite one: a medieval bedroom with stone floors and elegant furniture centered around a giant canopy bed in the center carved out of wood.

 

“This one's my favorite.” She said, turning and walking backward onto the set. She wandered out the doors onto a “balcony,” which stared off at the back of another set. Delphine walked over and settled in next to her.

 

“So, do I get to know anything more about you?” Delphine asked.

 

“What do you wanna know?” Cosima asked, tilting her head off to the side. “I'm pretty much an open book.”

 

“Hmm.” Delphine pushed her lips off to the side of her face as she thought, then asked. “The breakup you were talking about? What happened?”

 

Cosima let out a breath that verged on a snort and looked down at her clasped hands. “Wow, you really cut to the hard questions, don't you?”

 

“It's all I really know about you, honestly.”

 

Cosima nodded, then cleared her throat. “Not much to tell, really. I thought we were going to be together forever, I got sick, and she left.”

 

“Why did she leave?”

 

“She didn't say. Guess it was too much for her. The whole dying partner thing.” She had tears stinging in her eyes, and she looked up to try to stem them. Delphine reached a hand over to her back to comfort her and said nothing. Cosima cleared her throat again. “You know, I explicitly told the people at the hotel I wanted a window with a view and this is what we get.” Cosima said with a small, playful quirk teasing at the corners of her downturned lips. “They've ruined our honeymoon.”

 

Delphine chuckled. “Now now, dear.” She said in the American accent she used for the show. “It's not the view that counts.” She leaned in a little closer, and their shoulders pressed up against one another. “It's the bed.”

 

Cosima sighed dramatically and turned to wrap her arms around Delphine's neck. “Oh, Henry. You always know just what to say. I'm so glad we're finally married.”

 

Delphine reciprocated, circling Cosima's waist loosely with her arms. “So, you wanna try it out?” She waggled her eyebrows, and Cosima laughed.

 

“Lead the way, darling.”

 

Delphine reached down and swooped Cosima's legs out from under her. She laughed, letting her head fall back as Delphine carried her over the threshold and laid her out on the bed.

 

“Scoot.” Her French accent was back now, obvious even in such a short word. Cosima wiggled a few feet to the side so Delphine could lay down next to her on the bed. “Why did you bring me here?”

 

“I don't know.” Cosima shrugged one shoulder up to her ear. “I wanted to get away from Leekie, and I like it here. It's like a hundred tiny worlds forgotten by time, you know?” She rolled her head to the side and realized that the way they were laying, looking at one another, their faces were closer than they'd been even holding each other a minute before. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest and she attempted to swallow down the nervousness. “I feel like I have to tell you something.”

 

Delphine frowned. “What's wrong?”

 

Cosima shut her eyes, Felix's words from earlier that day bouncing around her mind. _Guarded._ “Nothing. Nothing's wrong, necessarily. It's just...” She blew out a slow breath. “I'm queer, Delphine.”

 

After a second, she laughed. Her face twisted in confused amusement. “I know that already. If you were attempting to hide it, you were doing a very poor job.”

 

“Okay, yeah. But it's not just...” She groaned and covered her face with her hand. “Jesus. Okay. I totally think you're beautiful or whatever.” She rushed out in one breath. Then she quickly added, “But I would never act on it. I mean, I know you're straight. And I respect you too much to let that ruin our friendship.” She dropped her hand and looked over at Delphine who was chewing quietly on her lower lip, brows dipped in thought. “I don't want to be like Scott or Leekie or any of the hundreds of people who are creeping on you, but I also don't want you to find out from someone else and have that be even creepier.”

 

Delphine released her lip, and a small smile rose at the corners of her cheeks. “Thank you for telling me.” She swallowed, and looked down at where their arms were brushed up against one another's. “It's nice to know you respect me.”

 

Their eyes met again, and Cosima felt a shock reverberate through her body down through her stomach. “Yeah. No prob.” She cleared her throat. “Although, just ground rules kind of thing. You're really gonna have to stop looking at me like that.”

 

Delphine didn't react with confusion aside from the way her eyes flickered from one of Cosima's eyes to the other. “How am I looking at you?”

 

“Like you want to kiss me.”

 

The lights went out suddenly, leaving them in darkness. Cosima inhaled sharply, feeling every muscle in her body go rigid. Then the lights flickered back on and the distant voice of the tour guide echoed through the vast room. “This... is the graveyard.”

 

Cosima let the breath out slowly and chuckled. “The tour. Shit. I forgot about that.” She looked back over at Delphine, whose face was tinged a faint red against her pale skin. “Come on, let's book. Unless you really want a group of twenty tourists to find you in bed with another woman.”

 

Delphine nodded, and let Cosima lead her through the maze of sets. She stopped her in front of one and peered around the corner, then motioned for her to keep following. Eventually, they were home free. They walked slowly back toward the building where their own set was housed, silent with hands shoved in their pockets. Cosima cleared her throat.

 

“So, we're good, right?” She glanced at Delphine out of the corner of her eye. “Like, in spite of what I told you?”

 

“Oui, Cosima. We are fine. I appreciate your honesty. And the distraction from Leekie. I feel much better now.”

 

“Good. And, like, if you ever need to talk or whatever... I could give you my number? You could call me or something?” Cosima kicked herself internally. She sounded like a clumsy teenager asking a girl to prom. It would've been equally smooth if she'd handed her a piece of paper that said _do you want to be my bff? Check the box. Yes, No, Maybe._

 

“That would be nice.” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and took down Cosima's number, saving it into her phone. “Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It occurred to me that I didn't warn you all that I was going on vacation, so you've been left twisting in the wind for a little while. Sorry about that. I promise I'll be better about letting you know about glitches in posting in the future. Anyway, as always, let me know what you think and, most of all, enjoy!

They didn't finish shooting until ten that night. Cosima, spurred on by Rachel, had spent the rest of the day working on her thesis, though she took extra care to make sure Leekie wasn't continuing to pester Delphine. Despite her insistence that Cosima drop the matter, she found herself unable to comply. She couldn't stand by and watch him hurt her new friend.

  
Was she just a friend? She'd been unphased by Cosima's confession which, she knew, was a _good_ thing. The sign of a true ally, she reminded herself. Still, it would be more decisive if she'd at least pulled away a little. And that last moment before the tour group walked in, she couldn't stop thinking of that either. There was a pull there, the gravitational tug of Delphine's eyes and her lips—God, that woman's lips. She let out a little sigh and ran her fingers gently over the skin of her own, which was tingling with a burning intensity. It was a stupid thing to say, Cosima knew that. Exactly the opposite of what she'd said a few minutes earlier. But she couldn't shake the feeling that Delphine had been seconds from kissing her.

 

_Stop confusing what you want to happen with what would have happened._ She reminded herself of that. This wasn't a movie, this was real life. Stuff like that just didn't happen.

 

She was putting away her laptop when Delphine walked over to her. No, it was more like she  _swayed_ over to her, a lazy smile curling her lips.

 

“Need a ride home?”

 

Cosima tugged her bag up and over her shoulder, then shrugged. “Martin can take me.”

 

Delphine rolled her eyes. “Would you rather ride with him?”

 

She shifted her weight onto one hip, raising her eyebrows just a little. “Honestly? No. But I don't wanna inconvenience you.”

 

“It is no problem. Really.” She put a hand on Cosima's arm, tugging gently. “Come.”

 

They walked quietly toward the parking lot, settled into the sort of silence that cradles rather than wracks. Cosima thought of how nice it would be—how easy—to just slip her hand into Delphine's, to mark her as hers, but kicked the thought roughly from her mind.  _Boundaries, man. Boundaries._

 

They slipped into her car, and Delphine turned on the radio, wafting something French and folksy through the car. The roof was up now, but the windows were down, and her hair was still blowing around her cheeks the way it had that morning. After a few minutes of driving, Cosima spoke.

 

“You know, I don't know my way around here very well, but I don't think the hotel is this way.”

 

Delphine glanced over at her briefly, then back to the road. “I know.”

 

Cosima's eyebrows shot up. She had definitely not seen that coming. “So... where are we going, then?”

 

“It's a surprise.” She was clearly trying to keep a smile from her face, but failing miserably. Which resulted in a sweet, impish little upturn at the corners of her mouth. “Do you like wine?”

 

Cosima nodded then, realizing Delphine was a good driver and had her eyes on the road, said “yeah. I love it.”

  
“Good.”

 

Ten minutes later, they were walking into a restaurant jampacked full of bodies. Most of them were seated, the rest swiftly and deftly dancing around them in the narrow aisles between chairs and tables and limbs. It had the distinct feeling of being backlit: the bar had lights behind it, and sconces on the wall shadowed the light. Every other one was an electric blue, and it interacted with the white light to make Cosima feel like she was underwater, looking up at the surface. Delphine spoke briefly with the maitre'd, who led them out onto a patio and sat them at a table near the railing. A second later, a server showed up with a bottle of wine, which he presented to the both of them for inspection.

 

If Cosima was being entirely honest, she had no idea what the hell anything on the label meant aside from the grape varietal, but with the eyes of both the sommelier and Delphine on her she simply gave a small nod. He poured out a small sample in a glass for Delphine who tasted it with eyes shut, then smiled brightly.

 

“Simon, you've done it again.” She said, which made his eyes light up with uninhibited glee.

 

“Thank you, mademoiselle Cormier.” He responded while pouring out two full glasses for them, adding a flourished little twist at the end of each pour to pick up the droplets. He placed the bottle gingerly on the table and disappeared back into the restaurant.

 

“So,” Cosima, ever tactless, leaned her elbows forward onto the table and grinned at Delphine. “You brought me here to—what?--impress me with your wine knowledge and socialite connections?”

 

Delphine ignored her, bringing the wine glass to her lips again. “You're not going to try it?”

 

Cosima cocked her head to the side and watched Delphine look out across the railing, eyes scanning the dark horizon. After a moment, she gave in and brought the wine glass to her lips. It was delicious, sure. To be honest, she didn't have the most delicate palette (smoking since age 16 will do that to you) so she wasn't entirely sure what to say.

 

“It's delicious.”

 

“Yes, it is. From Bordeaux.” Delphine finally turned her gaze to look at her, the smile that had been ever-present now gone. “And no, I did not bring you here to impress you. You're from this area, yes? The coast?”

 

Cosima nodded, leaning back in her chair now but leaving her hands on the edge of the tabletop. “San Francisco Bay area.” She affirmed.

 

“You must like the ocean, then.”

 

“Yeah, of course. I grew up around it. My father was a marine biologist, so he used to take me out with him to catch doscidicus gigas.” At Delphine's bewildered look, she added “Humboldt squid.”

 

“Ah. Well, then.” She leaned forward, and Cosima did the same. “You may want to look to your right.”

 

She turned her head to look out over the balcony, and found that they were looking out over the ocean. The sound of the waves had faded into the soft tones of the music, she hadn't even noticed it before. “Oh, wow.” She said softly. She had the sudden urge to leap up from her chair and run out onto the sand, but managed to control herself. “That's gorgeous.”

 

“Yes. They own this beach, so it stays pristine and mostly free of tourists.” Delphine said, speaking quietly so she wouldn't disturb Cosima's awe. “I'll take you down there during the day sometime.”

 

Cosima looked back at her and smiled. “I'd love that.” She took another sip of her wine and put it back on the table, running her thumb and forefinger up and down the stem. “So, what about you? Get out to the beach much as a kid?”

 

“Somewhat. My family is from the south of France, but not directly on the coast. We would go for day trips, but my father was a very hard working man. He didn't have much time for us.” She responded, a wistful smile on her face. “I used to beg him to take us.”

 

“And your mother?”

 

Delphine's smile dropped and she cleared her throat. She finished her glass of wine and poured herself another. “She left us when I was very young.”

 

“I'm sorry.” Cosima said softly, looking down into the small amount of wine still left in her own glass.

 

“What's past is past.” Delphine said definitively. “It cannot be helped. What did happen is what needed to happen to bring me to where I am today. I'm not sorry for it.”

 

“That's a really good outlook to have.” Cosima finished her glass and reached to pour herself another, as well.

 

“Yes, well. What about your mother? What does she do?”

 

Cosima leaned back in the chair, brining her glass with her this time and tapping thoughtfully on the side of it with her index finger. “She's most known for her poetry, but she was famous locally among the environmentalists and feminists. She went to Berkeley and never really grew out of her activism phase. I guess you could say she owned her own business, too. Making herbal tinctures and selling them to people around town.”

 

“She sounds very interesting.” Delphine chuckled. “Are you much like her?”

 

“Looks-wise I'm a pretty even mix of the two of them.” Cosima said, cocking her head thoughtfully. “But in terms of personality, I think I'm a lot more like my father. He was a really solid thinker, you know? She was always more abstract, very,” she waved her hands above her head, “up in the clouds all the time.”

 

“And you are not 'up in the clouds?'” The idiom seemed strange in Delphine's mouth, Cosima wondered if she'd ever heard of it before.

 

“What do you think?”

 

Delphine bit her lip and swept her eyes across Cosima's face, starting with her eyes and brushing down to her lips. They lingered there for just a heartbeat, before returning back up to her eyes. “I think you seem very optimistic.” She said slowly, diplomatically. “Yet in touch with the world at the same time. I think...” She cocked her head off to the side. “I think you want to see the best in every situation, which gives you the air of a dreamer.”

 

Cosima smiled, feeling herself sprout under Delphine's gaze. Their eyes were locked together, and Cosima's breath was bursting quick and heavy from her nose. She was extremely aware of the pleasurable twist in her stomach, in the aching want of Delphine, but she couldn't bring herself to look away or break their contact.  Delphine laid her hand on top of Cosima's, breaking their staring contest to look at their hands fitted together on the tabletop. Cosima's eyes followed. They looked gorgeous together, Cosima thought, Delphine's hand—tan, yet somehow still ivory-white against Cosia's dark olive complexion; long, bare fingers compared to the shorter, thing ones laden in heavy silver and ebony.

 

“I'm sorry, was that too forward of me?”

 

Cosima glanced back up to see Delphine looking at her with a slight crease in her brow. “No! No, not at all. I mean, I did ask.”

 

Delphine retracted her hand and placed it on her wine glass. “Good.”

 

“Besides, you were pretty spot on, I think.” She picked up her own wine glass and pointed at Delphine with the hand that held it. “You, my friend, are a pretty decent judge of character.”

 

“Merci. It is an aspect of my job, you know? To—to be able to understand others.” She looked down at where her hand rested atop the round base of the glass on the table. “I miss that very much. Playing roles that require thought and nuance.”

 

“You don't think Dr. Houston is nuanced?”

 

Delphine sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “No, not exactly. I meant to say that I miss independent cinema. The theatre, too. I did a film back when I was a student at the conservatory that was simply this extended character study of a young woman watching her friend enter into an abusive relationship and being helpless to stop it or intervene.” She leaned her elbows onto the table, fire catching in her pupils. “I mean, it was slow-moving and emotionally very heavy, but it said something. It was about people, and how they interact with the world. At the same time, it hid more than it showed. It required the audience to _work_ for the meaning, or perhaps to make their own meaning.”

 

Cosima smiled. “So, you're saying good cinema and good burlesque have a lot in common? It's all about what you're  _not_ showing.”

 

Delphine laughed. “Yes, I suppose that's exactly what I'm saying.”

 

“I'd like to watch that movie.”

 

Delphine widened her eyes slightly, then leaned back. “I don't know if you could find it, it was years ago. And in French.”

 

“I bet I could find it.”

 

“Let me know if you do.” Delphine drained the last of the wine from her glass, and placed it back on the table. “I should probably get you home now, shouldn't I? We both have to be on the set early tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah. Actually, I'm not gonna be around tomorrow.”

 

“Oh. I—all right.”

 

Cosima cleared her throat. “Yeah, Rachel sorta ordered me to take a long weekend to focus on studying.”

 

“That's probably wise.” Delphine nodded and looked back out at the ocean.

 

“Yeah. I'll be back Monday, though. You won't have to miss me for too long.” She added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

 

Delphine returned her gaze to Cosima's, opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She licked her lips. “Yes, well. Let's go, shall we?”

 

* * *

The sound on her laptop was off, but when the Skype call came through the icon that popped up caught her attention right away. She'd been reading a book set off to the side of her computer, pondering the wording of her next sentence when the screen brightened slightly and beckoned her. When she saw the name—Dr. Halsworth—she dropped her thoughts instantly and reached for her headphones. She looked around to be sure no one would be bothered, but there were few students here at the early hour—a lab supervisor, flipping lazily through a magazine, a student bopping his head along to whatever music he was listening to and scribbling in his notebook, and a third who had done nothing but stare out the window for the past thirty minutes. Surely, none of them would care. By the time she'd plugged the headphones in, the call had ended so she quickly returned it.

 

“Cosima! I thought I'd missed you.” Dr. Mary Halsworth's voice came through before her image, but her enthusiasm was obvious nonetheless.

 

“Nope, I just had to grab my headphones. It's good to hear from you!” Cosima smiled back, careful to keep her voice down despite the urge to shout her enthusiasm to her adviser. She caught the eye of the man who'd been looking out the window, who had turned his pensive gazing to her. She held her hand up in apology, but he waved it off and returned his attention to the window.

 

“Oh. Are you there?” Dr. Halsworth leaned forward as though she could reach her head out of Cosima's screen and take a look around. “Can I see?”

 

“Of course.” She turned the laptop in a slow circle, giving her a full view of the bright tile floor, the oak cabinets lining the walls and the black-topped tables.

 

“Wow.” The laptop was still turned away from her, but Cosima could picture the look of wonder on her adviser's face.

 

She turned it back around and smiled. “It's not _that_ different  from the one in Minneapolis.” She chuckled.

 

“But it is different.” Dr. Halsworth's broad, round face grinned right back. “How are they treating you there? Do you like it? How's the weather?”

 

Cosima held her hands up. “One question at a time, please.”

 

Dr. Halsworth leaned back into the large leather chair that always seemed to swallow her five-foot frame whole. “Don't sell yourself short, Cosima. You're capable of at least ten answers at a time.”

 

“Thanks, I think?” She crossed her forearms in front of her and leaned her weight onto them. “They're treating me fine, I haven't really interacted much with people, the lab is super state of the art and awesome, the weather is beautiful and sunny and I love it but I definitely miss the people at UM.”

 

“People you take with you wherever you go; expensive equipment is a bit harder to carry in your heart.” Dr. Halsworth laughed her deep belly laugh in the distinct way she did when she said something she believed to be particularly witty.

 

“Yeah, but expensive equipment makes dull conversation.”

 

She was doing it again, laughing before she even made the joke. “So your doctor's not letting you smoke anymore, is that it? Because I happen to recall you having a great conversation with a  centrifuge. ”

 

Cosima felt a blush singe at her cheeks and she looked down to the table, rolling her eyes like a disgruntled teenager. “Okay, so maybe sometimes I talk to the equipment, but it's never talked back.”

 

“And I don't suppose it gives very good hugs, either.”

 

“No. No, it doesn't.” Cosima agreed with a firm nod of her chin.

 

A quiet settled over them, and Dr. Halsworth scanned Cosima's face with crystal blue eyes that had always had a way of piercing straight to the truth. Cosima twisted a ring on her finger, using it as an excuse to avert her eyes. Even from two thousand miles away, her gaze seemed intent to parse out some truth, whatever it may be.

 

“You're doing all right, though?” She asked, her voice a great deal quieter than it had been before. “Your doctor was vague about the details, but I understand he's an oncologist.” There was a pointed question somewhere in the sentence, which unnerved her. She'd never known Mary to dance around an issue.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.” Cosima waved her hand dismissively. “Really, just some aftercare stuff, testing and all that jazz.” She cleared her throat and shifted to settle equally uncomfortably in her chair. She didn't like lying, didn't like that Rachel had forced her into this corner.

 

“I'm glad to hear that.” Dr. Halsworth tapped at her thin lips with her fingertips. “You know you can tell me anything, don't you?”

 

“Yeah.” Cosima furrowed her brow. “Yeah, of course.”

 

“Good.” She let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Well, I've got another tedious faculty meeting to attend, so I'm afraid I have to go. Let's set up a time to chat about your thesis soon.”

 

“I look forward to it.” Cosima forced a smile onto her face and waved, more with her fingers than her wrists, then went to end the call. When she looked back up and over the screen of her computer, she found a pair of dark eyes looking back at her. “Oh. Sorry, was I disturbing you?” She asked, sitting straight up in her chair and tugging her headphones off her ears.

 

The woman who was looking at her smiled brightly and shook her head. “No, no. Not at all.” But instead of going back to her work, she strolled over to where Cosima was sitting and leaned on the desk.  When s he stood, Cosima noted she must be almost six feet  tall , with dark skin and long, straight black hair parted down the middle. She settled across the table and leaned onto her palms. “So, you're what all the fuss has been about, huh?”

 

Cosima leaned back and furrowed her brows. She raised her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Fuss?”

 

“Yeah, there was a whole bunch of people from some transport company bringing stuff in here. Never said why or what for. All I could get out of the guy doing it is that the client had a ton of money and his boss seemed scared shitless of him.” She tilted her head off to the side. “Or her, I guess.”

 

Cosima laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, no. That would be my sister, not me.”

 

“That's a shame.” She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I like my friends a little bitchy.”

 

Cosima settled her arms across her chest and mimicked the expression. “Friends?”

 

“Yeah. Friends.” She pointed a finger at Cosima, straight at her heart. “You've got attitude, I like that. Besides,” she rolled her eyes, “women in the sciences. Gotta stick together or whatever carebear shit people wanna cram down our throats, right?”

 

She wasn't sure what to make of this woman, who'd just walked right up and started talking to her like they'd been bantering all their lives. She realized she didn't even know her name. “Sure.” She held a hand out. “I'm Cosima.”

 

“Sherry.” She took her hand in a surprisingly gentle handshake. “So, Friday night my boyfriend's band is playing a show. Good music, cheap drinks, guaranteed trouble. You in?”

 

Cosima thought about what she could possibly be doing this weekend and decided going out and making friends beat the hell out of working on her thesis, waiting around for Delphine to call, and watching TV, no contest. She nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sounds good.”

 

“Cool.” She pulled a folded up flyer out of her pocket. “Meet me before it starts so we can get through a couple drinks and get to know each other—nine sound good to you?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a week? Yeah. I did that. You're welcome.

“Cosima fucking Niehaus.” The man on the other end of the line drawled, grin shining through in his voice. “Long time, no see.”

 

Cosima was wearing a grin of her own, unable to stop herself. She leaned back against the headboard of the bed. “Technically, you're still not seeing me.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You always have to be right, don't you?” He laughed. “I miss you, anyway.”

 

“Miss you, too, Danzo.” She felt the grin soften, she'd forgotten just how much she missed Danny's soft teasing and shy smiles. “How's it going, dude?”

 

“Great. You?”

 

“Good, good.”

 

There was a second's pause, as she tried to figure out how to segue into a favor from someone she hadn't spoken to in almost six months.

 

“So, I'm assuming you didn't call to make small talk?” He asked, apparently still as in tune with her as he'd been when they'd been classmates.

 

“Uh, no. No, I didn't. I was actually wondering if I could ask a favor?”

 

He chuckled. “Depends on the favor.”

 

She nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her. “I was wondering if you might be able to put your esoteric film knowledge to actual use and find me something?”

 

“You know it.” He shot back. “What's it called?”

 

“Yeah, about that. I don't actually know. All I know is it would've been about ten years ago, in France. A student film, about a woman watching her friend enter into an abusive relationship. Starring Delphine Cormier?”

 

“The chick from Silicone Hearts?”

 

“The one and only.”

 

“Well,” she heard the soft squeak of his bed on the other end of the line and thought of laying there with him, watching the original _Nosferatu_. She thought of his gentle hands, his eagerness hidden behind unsure questioning. _Is-is this okay? Can I...?_ She smiled at the memory. “Not having the title will make it a little more difficult, but I'll do what I can.”

 

“Thanks, Danny. I owe you one.”

 

“Actually, you owe me at least ten by now.”

 

“I know.”

 

* * *

 

She didn't want to admit it to herself, but Cosima was nervous. She hadn't been thrust into a situation so uncomfortably social in a long time. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy people or that she wasn't confident in her ability to make friends—she knew she came across as affable and quick when she wanted to, and that people tended to gravitate toward her when she was happy. She was outgoing and the alcohol would only help matters in that respect. Yet, at the same time, she wouldn't know anyone there. She was alone in a city she didn't know, going to a bar to meet people she didn't know to watch a band she didn't even know the genre of. She checked her makeup and outfit in the mirror again, trying to decide if what she was wearing was appropriate. She really should've asked what kind of music they were playing. And all of that was ignoring the fact that, since she'd moved to Minnesota to pursue her doctorate, she hadn't really done much in the way of going out and making friends. She felt rusty, unsure.

 

The telephone in her room rang and the man at the front desk informed her a taxi was waiting out front for her. She thanked him and rushed out the door, nearly forgetting her bag on the way.

 

It turned out she had nothing to worry about, because the second she paid her cover, stepped in the door and found Sherry in the milling crowd, she'd noticed a perfectly quaffed hairdo poking up from behind a messy mane.

 

“Felix? Sarah?” She laughed as Sherry led her to the table. “What are you guys doing here?”

 

“Could ask you the same thing.” Sarah grunted. “I thought you academic types weren't supposed to be any fun.”

 

Sherry rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Sarah.”

 

Felix stood and wrapped her up in a hug, grin broad across his face. “Lovely to see you, darling. The band's comprised entirely of old friends, which explains us. Your turn.”

 

“Sherry found me in the lab and invited me out.”

 

“Saint Sherry, takin' in the overprivileged and undersexed of Los Angeles.” Sarah muttered with a lighthearted smirk.

 

Sherry laughed. “Undersexed? This catfight suddenly got interesting.” She brought her glass to her lips.

 

“Oh, didn't hear about this one yet? Our bitch of a boss is her sister, brings her round to get laid.” She threw a hand up, exasperated. “Apparently it's been two years.”

 

“All right. For the record, it's only been nineteen months.” Cosima replied, eyes narrowing. “And I'm pursuing my _doctorate_. I'm busy.”

 

“Mmm-hmm.” Sarah and Felix responded simultaneously, both raising their drinks for a long pull.

 

“It's super creepy when you two do that whole sibling mirror thing.” Sherry said. She shook her head. “Anyway, Cosima, have sex when you're ready. There's no need to push it.”

 

Cosima smiled at her new friend. “Thank you.At least one of you is reasonable.”

 

“Besides, Sarah's the posterchild for the _over_ sexed, so her opinion doesn't mean much.” Sarah scowled at Sherry, who simply smiled sweetly back at her. “Speaking of, where's Vic tonight?”  
  


“Who gives a shit?” She growled into her beer.

 

“Ooh, trouble in paradise?” Sherry teased, a pleased lilt to her voice. “Do tell.”

 

“Nothin' to tell. Bastard's cheating on me.”

 

“Wait.” Cosima leaned on an elbow, raising a hand to catch the group's attention. “I thought you were sleeping with Paul?”

 

“She is.” Felix confirmed.

 

“So, who's Vic?”

 

“A dick.” Sherry laughed in response and Sarah rolled her eyes.

 

“My boyfriend.”

 

“So, you're mad your boyfriend, who you're cheating on, is cheating on you?” Cosima attempted to clarify, trying to wrap her mind around the situation.

 

“Yeah, well, he don't know I'm cheating, do he?” Sarah snapped back. “It's the principle of it.”

 

“Hey, baby.” A man with a large pompadour, clad in a black button-up, black jeans, motorcycle boots, a bolo tie, and a leather jacket slid into the booth next to Sherry and slung a careless arm around her shoulder.

 

“Hey.” Sherry smiled without a hint of a smirk for what seemed like the first time and leaned in to kiss the man gently on the lips.

 

He turned and caught Cosima's eye, a lopsided smile growing on his face when he did. He leaned forward, left arm still hanging on Sherry's shoulders, and put his right hand out. “Name's Rockabilly Bob.”

 

Cosima took it, feeling her own smirk rising to match his. “Cosima.” Then, she added “Rockabilly Bob? Just Bob too boring for you?”

 

“No, no. It's outta necessity. Cause, hmm.” He leaned back in the booth again and lifted his chin as he thought. “Let's see, there's crusty Bob, post-punk Bob, psychobilly Bob...” He trailed off, frowning. “I think I'm missing someone.”

 

“New wave Bob.” Sarah supplied, then nudged Felix in the ribs with her elbow.

 

“Ugh. Don't even.”

 

Cosima raised her eyebrows. “I'm sensing a story, here?”

 

“Fe was shaggin' this guy, yeah?” She starts, an eager giddiness to her Cosima had never seen before.

 

“No, no, no. If this story is getting told, I at least get to tell it.” Felix cut in. He pushed up on the bottom of her beer bottle, encouraging it toward her lips. “You just drink your pisswater.”

 

Sarah rolled her eyes, but brought the bottle to her lips anyway.

 

“So, there's this guy, and he's _hot_ , yeah? Like, drop dead gorgeous.” He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated swoon. “Not to mention, he's hung like a bloody horse. Anyway, we're snogging, and he starts kissing down my chest, and I think—if this bloke's even remotely good at blowjobs, I've hit the lottery. Anyway, he's going down on me, and it's all right. But then he bites me.” At this, the table bursts out laughing, despite the fact most of them had heard this story before. “I thought he was gonna take my dick off!” He shouts over the roar of their laughter. “It wasn't funny.” He pouted, sulking back into the booth.

 

“Oh, my god. No way. I had a girl bite my clit once. That is some serious pain!” Cosima feels compelled to come to his defense. “Like, a little teeth is fine and all, I'm down for a little rough sex, but she _bit._ ” She shook her head, waving her hands in front of her body. “I was like, 'no. We're done now. Go home.'”

 

“Thank you!” Felix shouted, bolting straight back up. “I'm glad somebody gets it.” He added. “I knew I liked you.”

 

Sarah laughed. “Maybe I misjudged you, geek breath.”

 

“Thanks?”

 

“Anyway,” Sherry stepped in, turning to Bob and placing a hand on his arm. “Aren't you supposed to be playing?”

 

“Yeah, but we're having a problem with the amp.” He shrugged. “Tony's on it. You know he's better at that stuff than I am.”

 

“Yep,” a voice came from behind him from a man dressed in a denim jacket over a white t-shirt and jeans, long curly hair pulled back into a ponytail. “I'm the brains and you're the... No, wait. I'm the beauty, too.” He joked. “I guess you're just the guy there to make me look good.” The man settled in next to Cosima on the other side of the booth and grinned over at her. “Tony.”

 

“Cosima.” She responded, holding a hand out for him. He stared at it for a second, as if the gesture was foreign to him, but took it for a quick shake anyway.

 

“Pleasure.”

 

“Does that mean you fixed it?” Rockabilly Bob asked, straightening in his seat.

 

“Yep. Ready when you are.”

 

The band wasn't bad, and the company wasn't either. Despite getting off on the wrong foot with Sarah, she found herself warming slowly to her crude humor and straightforward gruffness, and enjoying sex talk with Felix. Sherry was a bit quieter, despite her directness in the lab, but they kept catching one another's eye for soft, reassuring smiles that made Cosima feel right at home. After a song or two, they stood up to dance and soon, what felt like the entire bar was dancing with them. They barely stopped to take a single breather through the whole forty minute set.

 

They stumbled outside at midnight so Sherry, Bob, and Tony could smoke and right as the evening air—frosted with a tinge of a chill—hit them, Cosima could hear her phone ringing away in her purse. She glanced quickly at the screen, then began to step away from them.

 

“Sorry, have to take this. It's work.” She said thoughtlessly, walking backward away from them.

 

“We're your work, Cosima.” Felix noted wryly.

 

“Oh, God. Is it your sister?” Sarah asked, cackling into the night air. “Tell her I say hi, that'll twist the stick in her arse.” She called, though Cosima was now an easy twenty feet away.

 

“Hey.” She brought one hand to her ear to block out the noise of their jeers. “What's up?”

 

“Hello, Cosima.” Delphine's voice sounded grim, but... relieved? “I had a bad night, and I just thought...” She blew out a breath, sending a crackling through the receiver. “Merde. I don't know what I was thinking. I've had a couple glasses of wine. I suppose I just thought talking to you might make me feel better.”

 

Cosima couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. “It's totally fine, I'm happy to help. What happened?”

 

“I had an interview on this late night talk show, and there was a period where they allowed the audience to ask questions. This one man stood up and said 'Delphine Cormier, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.'” Her voice dropped into an American accent, though it was different than the one she used on the show. This one had a hint of Southern gentility to it. Cosima wondered if the man was really so proper, or if Delphine was simply unable to sound crude. “'You're also a great actress. You're the perfect woman, really. So, I was wondering: will you marry me?'” Cosima raised her eyebrows, suppressing a chuckle. “And I was just so angry. Because he doesn't know me, and—and—” She sighed out a laugh. “Now that I'm saying it out loud, it sounds like a ridiculous thing to be upset about.”

 

The mirth faded from Cosima's face and she shook her head, though Delphine couldn't see. “No, no. Not ridiculous at all. You're right, he doesn't know you. Being perfect is a lot to live up to.”

 

“Yes!” Delphine shouted, then added sheepishly, “I mean, yes. I—I didn't know what to say. I think if he actually did know me, he wouldn't be so excited to marry me.”

 

“You're joking, right? Cause, I mean, yeah. I get what you're saying. But you're legit incredible, Delphine.”

 

“Thank you.” Delphine said, her voice a great deal softer than it had been just seconds ago. “I feel better already, just hearing your voice.” Cosima felt heat flush her cheeks and she wrapped an arm around her stomach. “I wish you were here with me.” Cosima inhaled sharply, then let it out in a slow waver through her mouth, trying to decide what to say. Truthfully, she wished she was with Delphine, too, though she'd managed to get through the evening without thinking about her (a first since she'd set foot on the set, actually). The words had sent a pleasant buzz through her body, which now lingered as a hum on her skin. On the other hand, she also knew a confession like that could send her tumbling headlong down a road she didn't dare consider. “I'm sorry, does that go against the rules? I didn't mean to—”

 

But Cosima didn't get to hear the rest of what she said, because footsteps had stumbled up quick behind her, and her phone was snatched from her hands.

 

“Oh, my God. I was right. It's Delphine!” Felix was gaping at the name on her phone's screen, laughing incredulously. “You've got to be bloody joking!”

 

“Hey! Felix, give it back!” She reached to grab the phone back, but he held it easily out of her reach and pushed her back to arms' length.

 

He held it up to his ear. “Delphine Cormier. What are you doing calling our little geek monkey at midnight on a Friday?” Cosima tried again to grab it from him, but he turned away and held his arm out defensively again. “Mmm-hmm. I'm sure. No, no.” He stilled slightly and glanced at Cosima from the corner of his eye. “Look, just... Don't do what you always do. I _like_ this one.” Cosima stopped fighting, instead deciding to let things play out and getting an unusual chance to eavesdrop on a conversation about herself. “I mean, darling, she's not Oliver.” He raised an eyebrow at whatever Delphine responded with. “I never said that. I'm saying Oliver was a twat, and he deserved what he got from you. He knew what he was getting into.” He paused for a second, listening, then rolled his eyes. “No, I'm saying he knew what he was getting into.” He repeated. “Mmm-hmm. You do that.”

 

He handed the phone back to Cosima, dropping the arm that had been holding her away from him.

 

“What was that all about? Who's Oliver?” She asked.

 

“Nobody.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and started leading her back to the group. “Don't you worry your pretty little head about it.”

 

But she couldn't stop thinking about it. What had he meant, he knew what he was getting into? What was Felix trying to protect her from? Why had Delphine called her at all? Did it mean she felt the same way as Cosima? It certainly seemed like it. And, at the forefront of her brain was the question _who the everliving fuck_ _i_ _s Oliver?_

 

“Delphine called you?” Sarah was asking, pulling Cosima from her thoughts.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why?”

 

They were back inside, with the band on their second set. The crowd had gotten considerably bigger, and Felix had offered to buy the next round, so they were all busy nursing their drinks.

 

She shrugged. “She had a bad night, wanted to process some shit with me.” She brought her whiskey ginger to her lips and took a deep pull.

 

“Oh, Christ. Don't tell me little miss sunshine is actually flirting with you?” She laughed.

 

“Is that really such a weird concept?” Cosima shot back, glaring embers at Sarah. She didn't have the energy or attention span for daggers right now. It was more like nail scratches.

 

Sarah scoffed into her beer. “Just be careful, yeah? She's not what she seems.”

 

“What?”

 

“Sarah just means she's an actor, and actors are their own breed.” Felix cut in.

 

“No, I mean she's fake.” Sarah corrected, and set the beer back down on the table. She leaned in to catch Cosima's eye. “You can't trust these Hollywood types. Take it from me, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

When Cosima woke up the next morning, she had a text message waiting for her.

 

_Danny Waller_

 

_Found it._

 

 

There was a link at the bottom. She grinned, and reached immediately for her laptop. “Thank you, Danny.”


	6. Chapter 6

As the movie downloaded, Cosima reached over for her cell phone again and dialed Rachel's office number.

“Rachel Duncan's office.” His voice cut cleanly through the phone.

“Hey, Martin.” She started pacing the length of the room. “I was wondering if there's any way I could get a car? The buses here kinda suck.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Please hold one moment.” He responded.

She tried to protest, sputtering out “I don't need it right now” but the music had already clicked on. She sighed and settled on the bed, picking up the room service menu to see what she could get for breakfast. She'd finally decided on a pot of coffee and a small pastry tray when the music stopped abruptly.

“Ms. Niehaus?” Martin asked.

She rolled her eyes again. “Still here.”

“Great. Thank you for waiting. I've procured you a rental vehicle. The hotel has an underground parking garage you can use. I'll have someone drop the keys off to you in the next couple hours. Is that okay?”

“Oh.” She sputtered, surprised at both how swift he'd been in getting her the car and in how nervous he seemed for her approval. “Oh. Yeah, that's great. Thanks, Martin.”

“It's my pleasure.” He responded, voice bright and bouncy. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“No, that's great. Thank you, Martin.”

A tall brunette with long hair that settled in loose curls around her shoulders was looking around. She was surrounded by aging brick buildings, trees lush with a bright, deep green. Just behind her a regal building made of stone, whose doors were flanked with three impossibly large columns on each side, loomed over her. She tapped the rolled-up piece of paper in her right hand against her left, and blew out a sigh, then took another tentative look around. Apparently not finding what she wanted, she rolled her eyes and pulled out a clunky black cell phone.

Hands appeared from out of the frame and wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her back into a hug. Behind her, a small blonde was grinning broadly, blue eyes sparkling as she took it all in. “University!” She shouted, and the tall brunette unwrapped herself in order to turn to see her. “In Paris,” the blonde continued. She threw her hands out to their full span, a motion to everything around them. “With my best friend in the world.” She finished, then launched herself back onto the brunette, practically jumping into her arms with the force.

The brunette laughed and somehow managed to keep them both upright. “Yes, yes, Julie. It is very exciting.” She agreed. Though she was much calmer than Julie, her smile was so large it seemed to take up her entire face.

“And our first college party!” Julie continued, linking her arm in her friend's as they began to walk down the street. “Ooh! And cute college boys!” She squealed. When the brunette simply glanced down at her with an affectionate misery, the girl bit down on her lip and turned her eyes to the ground. “Sorry, Anais. You know I can't help it.”

Anais turned slightly, a sweet, soft smile on her lips. “I'm glad you're so happy, Julie. Really.”

“Good.” Julie seemed calmer now, though her smile was still impossibly bright. “So, college boys?”

They made their way into the house the party was being hosted at and managed to find themselves drinks. They had a few, in progressive wipes of the screen, each time getting a little blearier, a little more frenzied. Julie disappeared from the shot, shouting something about dancing. Anais drank more, then set off, stumbling around, groping for something to hold onto. She ran into a girl who scoffed and snarled at first, then softened when she noticed Anais stumble backward a step.

“Whoa, whoa. You okay there?” The stranger grabbed her arm to steady her, though she still swayed in place.

“Yes, I just—I need to find my friend.” Anais placed a hand on each of the stranger's shoulders and squinted at her, cheeks straining as they desperately tried to focus on the woman. “Her name is Julie. She's short, and blonde, very happy and excited.”

“You mean her?” The stranger jerked a thumb over to where Julie was on a couch, legs thrown haphazardly over a man's lap, their bodies a blur of hands and lips and tongue. “I don't think she's looking to be found tonight.”

“We were supposed to go home together.” Anais said simply, still staring at the couple making out in the corner.

“I'll help you get home.” The stranger said, tugging lightly on Anais' shoulder. “C'mon, this party blows anyway.”

 

Why does she have to be so damn beautiful? Cosima thought, eyes stroking soft trails down along the curve of Delphine's cheekbones, then over to her lips. They were slightly parted; slow, noisy breaths gasping through them. Cosima wasn't too bothered by Delphine's lack of grace just now, though, she was simply happy she was okay. And, yes, maybe a small part of her enjoyed seeing the usually flawless actress made mortal. It was a good reminder of just how normal she was, when you stripped away all the money and fame. A totally ordinary woman. Okay. Well, maybe not totally ordinary. Cosima looked down to her hand, ashen and still on top of the flimsy hospital blanket, and she longed to reach out and hold it. The fear that Delphine may wake to that and freak out, however, won over and she kept her hands fidgeting squarely in her own lap.

Delphine's head twisted to the side and she let out a little murmur. Another sharp twist, and her eyes fluttered open. “C—Cosima?” She asked, her voice dry and cracking.

“Hey. Yeah.” Cosima lurched forward, scooting her body as far toward the edge of her chair as she could without falling off. “It's me. You feeling okay?”

Delphine groaned, her hand rising to ruffle through her curls. “Mmm. I have felt better.” She looked around the room for a couple seconds, letting the reality of her surroundings soak in. “I am in the hospital.” When Cosima simply nodded, she added “Why?”

“You fainted. On set. The doctor says you were just ignoring the flu and not getting enough fluids, but he forbid you from working more today. And, since me doing my job kinda depends on you doing your job, I figured it wouldn't hurt for me to hang out with you for the day.” She tried to smile her best, most supportive smile, but she had the feeling she looked like a camp counselor trying to encourage everyone to make yet another popsicle stick picture frame.

Delphine groaned and let her eyes fall shut. “Merde. Please tell me I do not have to stay here all day.”

“Uh, no, actually.” Cosima jumped in, despite feeling like Delphine may have been speaking more to herself than to her. “I already asked that. You're free to check out whenever.”

“Well, I suppose today won't be all bad then.” She glanced up at Cosima and smiled slightly, though the usual flirtiness was skeletal at best with sweat sticking her hair to her skin and all the color having drained from her face. “Because I get to spend it making hooky with you.” Cosima's heart skipped an off-kilter beat at both the sentiment and the way Delphine had gotten the idiom wrong. She was fairly certain she'd never heard her screw up in her English before. She wondered if she should correct her, but figured she was just tired, that it had just slipped out.

So instead, she grinned the widest grin she could (it wasn't hard, with Delphine looking at her the way she was, even sick as a dog on a hospital bed) and brought her hand down to rest on Delphine's forearm. “Yes. It's gonna be awesome, I promise. I'm a great nurse.” She looked around, realizing the room was private and they were completely alone. She stood. “Speaking of nurses, I'm gonna go find one so we can get you out of here.”

Delphine was quiet for most of the ride home, switching between staring out the window and resting her head against it. Occasionally, Cosima would sneak glances at her to be sure she was okay, not looking like she might pass out or vomit again. Each time she'd looked before, Delphine's eyes had been shut or turned toward the window but now, as Cosima eased the Jaguar Martin had provided for her the saturday before into the parking garage of her condo, she realized Delphine was staring right at her.

“What?” She asked, a small, nervous chuckle behind her words. She pulled the car into the designated spot and turned it off.

“I was just wondering if—” Delphine's face was twisted, but soft. More pensive and cautious than she'd been with Cosima previously, even drinking wine by the oceanshore. “You don't have to answer this if you're not comfortable, of course, but—”

“Delphine.” Cosima pulled her bag up and over her shoulder, getting ready to get out of the car. “Seriously. Whatever you're going to ask me, I trust you. It's fine.”

Delphine nodded slowly, then asked (equally hesitant as before) “does being in hospitals...” The sentence died in the middle, but she didn't really need to finish it, because Cosima already knew what she was trying to ask, and she especially already knew her knee-jerk reaction. Absolutely. Every time. “Does it bother you?”

Cosima let out a metered breath and stared at the steering wheel, lips askew in soft contemplation. Finally, she raised her head to meet Delphine's eye, and said “it's not fun. I spent a lot of time there being miserable. I hate the way they smell.” She shrugged the shoulder that wasn't holding her bag. “But that's not enough to keep me away when other people need me there. I think, if anything, it makes me want to be there more. Because nobody should have to be alone in the hospital.”

Delphine licked at her lips, parched from dehydration. “Is that why you were there for me today?”

Cosima smirked playfully. “Well, yeah. Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” She pushed the car door open. “Now, let's get upstairs before you pass out on me again and I have to firefighter carry you up to your swanky penthouse.”

 

Anais set a log on top of the stump in front of her and picked up the ax laying next to it. They were at her family's cabin in the woods: her and Julie, Julie's boyfriend Marcel, and Anais' new friend Alice, the one she'd met at the bar earlier. The sun had begun to lower itself slowly in the west, casting a red haze over the near-silence of the scene.

Julie, who was watching Anais from the other side of the stump, broke the silence. “I know you don't like him, but I do.”

Anais raised the ax over her shoulder, holding it firmly with both hands, then paused to look at Julie. For a second, she didn't speak. Then she said “I never said I don't like him.” The ax came down on the log with a whistle and a loud crack. The split log fell to the ground, and she moved to grab another. “I said I don't like the way he talks to you. You deserve someone who will be sweet to you.”

“He is sweet to me.” Julie said, without a moment's hesitation, her eyes never relenting from Anais as she shuffled around the stump. “So he has a temper. Don't we all?”

Anais placed the new log on the stump. “I've never hit someone I claim to love.” She responded, then brought the ax down again with another crack.

Julie scoffed and crossed her arms. “Look, just because you've decided that you're a lesbian or something now doesn't mean all men are assholes.”

“I didn't say that, I said I'm worried about you and I don't trust him. Just him, not all men.” Anais snapped, pointing at Julie with the ax. “And I'm not a lesbian.”

“You seem awfully cozy with Alice. Don't act like there's nothing going on between you two.”

“You're avoiding the subject.” Anais muttered, lining up to strike at the next log. “Even if I am involved with Alice, that's none of your business.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Julie shifted her weight to her other leg, her hip jutting out sharply. “Well, I don't need your concern, okay? I'm fine. It is my business because you're my best friend, and I'm worried this is some weird, fucked up jealousy thing. Are you in love with me?”

Anais tossed the ax off to the side and placed her hands on her hips. “You're joking, right?”

“No. It would explain why you're so weird about Marcel.”

Anais shook her head. “I'm not in love with you, okay? Let's just drop it.” She motioned to the pile of split logs on the ground. “Help me carry these.”

 

Delphine frowned at the small shot glass in front of her. “What is this?” Her nose scrunched up as she looked into the murky orange liquid then back up to Cosima.

She laughed, leaning forward on the breakfast bar. “Old family recipe. My mom used to call it the no-pharma flu shot.”

“Okay.” Delphine drawled, swirling it around and noting the pulp that stuck to the sides of the glass. “But what's in it?”

“Just stop whining and take it, will ya?” Cosima straightened. “Then I'll tell you what's in it. Don't worry, it's all-natural. My mom was an herbalist, remember?”

Delphine sighed, eyeing Cosima warily from across the counter before nodding to herself. “Okay. I'm trusting you.”

Cosima smiled. “Good.”

Delphine knocked the shot back in one take, then immediately started coughing. She slid the glass across the bar and her face puckered as she attempted to shake off the sting. “Merde! What did you do to me?”

Cosima had rushed around the counter to rub soothing patterns along Delphine's back. “Sorry, sorry. Are you all right?”

“Yes, I think so.” Delphine let out one more small cough, then cleared her throat.

Cosima reached over and grabbed a box of tissues from her bag, passing it over to her. “You're gonna need this. It's garlic, a little OJ, cayenne, apple cider vinegar, and a touch of honey. It's gonna knock all that crap right out of your sinuses.”

“Ugh.” Delphine groaned, leaning back in her chair and further into Cosima's arm, which slipped around her with the motion. “Why can't I just take nyquil again?”

“Because it's not as good for you. This'll work, promise.” Cosima squeezed Delphine's bicep, which had ended up in her hand. “And I've got a steaming mug of freshly-steeped Echinacea tea for you, too.”

Delphine raised an eyebrow. “What is that? Please tell me it doesn't taste like—like” she motioned to the now-empty glass “that.”

Cosima chuckled, patted Delphine's arm once, then moved around to grab the mug of steaming tea. “Nope. Just an herb, tastes a little like mild mint and earth.” She was back around in a second, tugging lightly at Delphine's arm. “Now, come on. Let's get you into bed.” Delphine allowed herself to be led into her bedroom and settled into her bed. Cosima placed the mug of tea on the nightstand. “Get some rest, all right? I'll be in the other room.”

“Non, I'm not tired.” Delphine said, reaching out for Cosima who had already begun to walk away. “Besides, I have this whole mug of tea to drink.” She bit her lip, her eyebrows rising. “Stay with me?”

Cosima's heart hammered in her chest at the thought of laying in bed with Delphine, vulnerable and exhausted. Delphine, flirting shamelessly despite it all. “Okay.” She said softly. “If that's what you want.”

“It is.”

Cosima pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and slid in, and immediately Delphine moved to rest her head against Cosima's chest. She shut her eyes, hoping Delphine didn't notice the rabbit-quick beat of her heart in her chest. She cleared her throat and her eyes fluttered back open, not wanting to get too lost in this feeling. “Delphine, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Delphine murmured into the soft fabric of Cosima's shirt and burrowed her head in harder against her breast.

Oh, shit.

She swallowed, forcing herself to push on despite the distraction of Delphine against her. “Who's Oliver?” She felt Delphine stiffen in her arms and pull away. She propped herself up on her arm.

“Why do you ask?”

Cosima shrugged a shoulder nervously. “I overheard your conversation with Felix.”

“Oh. He is an ex-boyfriend.” Delphine was staring down at the sheets, picking at little feathers that poked through the stitching. “A trifle, really.”

“Okay. Why was Felix comparing us?”

Delphine pulled away completely now and reached over to grabbed the mug off the nightstand. She pulled up her knees and rested the tea on top of it, blowing into the still-steaming liquid. “He thinks I am...” She was staring at the rippling liquid in her glass, and she shook her head quickly. “Flighty, I guess? In romantic relationships.”

“Why?” 

“Because I get bored.” She said simply. “I leave when I'm no longer enjoying myself.”

“Relationships take work.” The statement came out harder than Cosima had expected it to, an anger had flared in her chest and blazed through her skin. She could feel a flush on her cheeks. “You can't just abandon people when you're done playing with them.”

Delphine leaned away from her, shocked at her tone. “Why would you stay with someone if they no longer make you happy? Why be in a relationship at all if it doesn't make you happy? I don't think being honest is worse than lying to everyone, and remaining in a relationship simply for the sake of being in one.”

“That's not what I mean. Like, of course if it's been bad for a long time, then leave. But you can't just one day decide to up and abandon someone just because they're going through a hard time!” She snapped.

“Cosima.” Delphine's voice was low, and dark. “I am not your ex-girlfriend. My relationship with Oliver was bad for a long time.” Delphine continued, jaw clenched tight. “He started acting as though he expected me to be his mother. For some reason, men expect this of the women they date, but I refuse to do that.”

Cosima ground her teeth together, and dropped her gaze to her lap. She shut her eyes, feeling the anger start to wither in her. It was true, she was projecting. She cleared her throat. “Okay. Well, my point still stands. But you're right, I don't know anything about your relationship with that guy.”

“No. You don't.” Delphine's tone was unwavering and she watched her with a frigid mask of indifference.

“I'm sorry.”

Delphine's frown faltered, and she brought the tea to her lips. “It's all right. I understand your breakup must have been difficult for you.”

Cosima nodded. “It was. Very.” She took the mug from Delphine's hand, returning it to the nightstand. “But I don't want to talk about it anymore. Just forget I asked about this and come back over here, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

“Julie.” Anais—hair now chopped to mid-cheek—took a step back, her hand falling impotently from the door. “What happened?”

“We had a fight.” Julie stood in the hallway, arms wrapped around her own body, covered in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt. When the other woman didn't respond—simply stared at her with an overall slackness, complete resignation to resentment—she asked, “aren't you going to invite me in?” Again, Anais simply stood still, though now her brow furrowed and a hand reached to her hip pocket, only to find it empty. Julie sighed, shrugging her shoulders up around her ears. “Anais.”

Anais stepped off to the side, and Julie made her way into the small apartment. “Where are you sitting?”

Anais barely lifted her arm to wave toward the adjoining kitchen, but Julie understood and went to settle in the vinyl-coated chair. Anais followed, settling herself into the chair opposite and pulling a cigarette from the pack and lighting it, then knocking it with her fingertips to send it skidding across the table to Julie. She took one out herself and waited with it unlit between her middle and index fingers, eyebrows raised at Anais.

“Hello? Anais?” She waved a hand in front of her face.

Anais simply leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Hmm?” The noise was barely a grunt, but loud enough for Julie to hear and roll her eyes.

“Lighter.”

Anais glanced down to where the lighter was still cradled between her palm and her thumb, then back up to Julie. After a couple beats, she placed it slowly and softly on the table. It barely made a sound. Julie snatched it up quickly and sucked on the newly-lit cigarette greedily.

“Thanks.”

“Mmm.”

Anais was staring at something behind Julie's head, and just slightly off to the left. Julie let out a little sigh, but the other woman didn't even seem to notice. Then she prodded at the purpling skin beneath her eye and winced, sucking in a sharp breath. After another beat of silence, Julie finally snapped. “He's not a bad man, you know. He just gets so angry.”

Anais still didn't look at her, simply took another deep drag of nicotine. “I know.”

“I hate it when you act like this.” Julie leaned forward on one elbow, cocking her body off to the side and crossing an ankle over a knee—sprawled out in complete opposition to Anais' body, which curled in on itself. “I know you're judging me.” Julie brought the cigarette to her lips, and when she spoke again, smoke burst out with the words in tufts like dirty cotton. “I know you think I'm some helpless woman, don't you? That I'm weak. Don't you?” When she noticed Anais was staring off at the wall again, she picked up the lighter and threw it at her. “Don't you?!” She was yelling now, and Anais was sitting up straight, both feet flat on the floor.

She'd startled into this position just seconds before, and now was staring in her lap at the lighter that had bounced off her face to the floor. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you weren't listening to me.” Julie spit back, dragging out the words, exaggerating them as though speaking to someone with a poor grasp on the language. “You don't need to be such a bitch about it.”

Anais' jaw was clenched, the muscles twitching and rolling beneath the surface. Her eyes were still trained on the lighter on the floor. “Julie, I—” She exhaled slowly, then placed both hands on the Formica tabletop. She slowly raised her hazel eyes to Julie's blue ones and held them for ten dragging, silent seconds. “Take a coat and get out.”

“What?” Julie leaned back, top lip rising into a scowl. “You can't kick me out.”

“Yes, I can.” She rose slowly but purposefully, the only give in her facade a slight tremble in her hands. “I don't care what he's done, I don't want your excuses, and I will not accept having things thrown at me in my own home.”

“Stop being so sensitive, Ani.” She scoffed, taking another drag of her cigarette. “I was just messing around.”

“No. Get out now, or I'll force you out without a coat.” Another stretch of silence—five seconds, ten. Fifteen. Anais stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray and moved around the table toward Julie.

“What are you doing?” Julie shouted, as Anais held her tightly around the bicep and jerked her up easily; not only was she much taller to begin with, she was standing over her and used her leverage to easily tug Julie out of the chair.

Again Anais had fallen silent. She dragged Julie to the door, the two of them scuffling as Julie tried desperately to pull her arm free and Anais staring at the door, as though simply keeping her eyes on it could get Julie to cooperate. “No!” Julie shouted, starting to pedal backward and dig in her heels, but there was an almost inhuman strength to her friend today, and she managed to wrestle her to the door, to open it with one hand while the other held fast to Julie. She threw her out the door and slammed it shut, locking the deadbolt with a deft click. 

Julie pounded on the door. “Anais, you bitch!” Bang bang bang. She turned to lean her back against the door, forcing her eyes shut uncomfortably tight. “This isn't funny! Open the fucking door!” Bang. “Anais! It's fucking cold out here! Bang bang thwap. Anais' legs faltered and she slid down the door until she was wedged between her own legs and the wood. “Fine! Be a bitch, see if I care! I have other friends, you know! Friends that care about me!” Julie's voice cracked on the last sentence, and Anais shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. There was one final bang on the door that resonated through Anais' body in a sharp twitch, and then the footsteps began to fade down the hallway. Distantly, she registered the sound of the door to the stairwell opening and shutting at the other end of the hall.

Her breaths were coming fast and shallow through her nose. She ran her hands through her hair, and they caught there, elbows leaning against knees and messy curls wrapped around slender fingers, nails caught deep in the scalp. Her eyes were open now, and skittish, but unmoving. She sat there—not crying, or moving, just sitting—for what felt like ten minutes. And then the screen went black.

 

“I watched that movie, the one you told me about.”

“Mmm. Really?” Delphine looked up from where she had resettled against Cosima's chest. They'd managed to put their little tiff behind them now, trading small talk and little anecdotes about themselves. “What did you think?”

“It was good.” Cosima spoke slowly, drawing it out to give herself time to think. “I thought the actress who played Julie kinda hammed it up, and the directing was a little heavy-handed, but you were amazing in it.”

“You don't have to say that.”

Cosima's jaw dropped and pulled away to see her more clearly. “What? Please tell me you know you were amazing in that. You're really talented, Delphine. Honestly. Your performance blew me out of the water.”

Delphine blushed, rose tinting her cheeks, and looked down to the bedspread again. “Merci, Cosima.”

“Anytime. Seriously. Call me if you need a compliment, I've got a million.” She joked, a smile overtaking her face when Delphine looked back up into her eyes. “You know, I was thinking about what you said earlier, how men expect women to be their moms?” Delphine nodded her understanding, and Cosima continued, “and I don't think I do that to the women I date, and then I was wondering if I try to do the masculine provider thing, and I don't think I do that, either. Maybe it's different for queer women. What do you think?”

Delphine rested her head in her hand, her head tilted off to the side as she thought. “Probably so. Or, perhaps, you are simply different. You are very unique.”

Cosima chuckled. “I'm not so special.”

“You are.” Delphine said with a soft smile. “Truly, Cosima.”

Cosima rubbed at her temple, and shifted on the bed. “What if that's why she left, though? Sophie? Like, what if I was doing that to her because I was in the hospital? I didn't think I was putting too much on her, it seemed like she wanted to do it, you know?” Cosima knew she shouldn't be talking about this with the woman she had a crush on, with a woman who was flirting with her. But she couldn't stop herself, couldn't stop the words from tumbling out, practically on top of one another.

Delphine reached out to cradle Cosima's hand in her own. “She really broke your heart, didn't she?” Cosima looked down into Delphine's soft eyes, feeling them pull at something deep inside of her, and she nodded. “Whatever you did, Cosima, you don't deserve this. When I broke up with Oliver, I told him very clearly why. Nobody should have to be left hanging like you were.” Her voice dropped a key and she added, “I don't understand how anyone could leave someone as incredible as you like that.”

Cosima tried to clear away the knot in the back of her throat and shook her head. “It's not a big deal. Maybe I should take a chapter out of your playbook, though. Only date in the short-term.”

“Maybe.” There was a couple beats of silence where Cosima looked away from Delphine, over at the closet door on the other side of the room. Delphine yawned, covering her mouth daintily with a hand, and refocusing Cosima's attention on her. “I'm feeling a bit tired. Would you mind?”

“Oh! Not at all. Sorry.” Cosima moved to stand, but Delphine's hand on her forearm stopped her.

“No. Stay.”

Cosima swallowed, then nodded. “Okay.”


End file.
